


Sterek Drabble Challenge

by nogitsune_lichen



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Accidental Marriage, Aftercare, Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - High School, Alternate Universe - Zombie Apocalypse, Amusement Parks, Angst, Awesome Erica, BAMF Sheriff Stilinski, Batman Stiles, Blow Jobs, Boyfriends, Carnival, Circus, Comfort, Coming Out, Crack, Cross-Posted on Tumblr, Deputy Derek Hale, Derek Hale Takes Care of Stiles Stilinski, Derek Misses Stiles, Derek Proposes, Derek Uses His Words, Dom Stiles, Domestic Fluff, Drabble Collection, Drunk Stiles, Drunkenness, Dry Humping, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Established Relationship, Eternal Sterek, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Family Feels, Feels, First Kiss, Fluff, Getting Back Together, Getting pets, Halloween, Handcuffs, Homophobia, Hospitals, Hurt Stiles, Hurt/Comfort, Insecure Stiles Stilinski, Kid Fic, Kissing, Las Vegas Wedding, Light Dom/sub, M/M, Making Out, Marriage Proposal, Married Couple, Near Death Experiences, Nerd Derek Hale, Nerd Stiles, Oblivious Scott, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Pack Bonding, Parent Derek, Parent Sterek, Parent Stiles, Parents Derek Hale/Stiles Stilinski, Possessive Derek, Psychic Abilities, Sassy, Scent Marking, Scenting, Senior Derek, Serious Injuries, Sharing a Bed, Shy Stiles, Single Parent Stiles Stilinski, Slice of Life, Smut, Stiles Stilinski is a Tease, Sub Derek, Superheroes, Superman Derek, Teen Angst, Top Derek Hale/Bottom Stiles Stilinski, Underclassmen Stiles, Vacation, Woke Up Married, Worried Derek, Writer Stiles, Zombies, ish, nerd boners, sterek
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-01-08
Updated: 2018-02-10
Packaged: 2018-09-15 16:59:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 36
Words: 23,071
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9247028
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nogitsune_lichen/pseuds/nogitsune_lichen
Summary: HERE'S A BUNCH OF STEREK DRABBLES TO SATISFY YOUR STEREK NEEDS! (All based on a 150 prompt list, the title of the chapter indicates which prompt it is).Tumblr: @nogitsunelichen





	1. "Don’t apologize if you don’t mean it."

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> However it’s been five months and his heart still ached for things to be the way they were. The lazy Sunday mornings when he was the first one to wake up only to end up tracing the beauty marks on the man beside him, still snoring in deep sleep. The late Friday nights when they stayed up late, curled into each other with take out boxes in hand while a movie ran on mindlessly on the TV.

Derek hesitated like he usually did. 

 

His hand paused a few inches from the door handle, his heart flipped in his chest, his thoughts supplied him with second guesses and doubts. However it’s been five months and his heart still ached for things to be the way they were. The lazy Sunday mornings when he was the first one to wake up only to end up tracing the beauty marks on the man beside him, still snoring in deep sleep. The late Friday nights when they stayed up late, curled into each other with take out boxes in hand while a movie ran on mindlessly on the TV. 

 

Long story short...he missed Stiles, but at the same time they were toxic. 

 

The lack of trust, the lack of communication, lack of compromise and resolve. One day it was all too much and they snapped.

 

Derek opened the door to the loft, the mellow lighting exposed Stiles on the other side. His hair was longer, floppy almost; and his cheeks were littered with splotchy facial hair. For a lack of a better term; Stiles looked like shit. Then again Derek did too so it wasn’t all bad. 

 

Stiles opened and closed his mouth a few times before settled on, “I miss you...”

 

Suddenly Derek’s eyes were hot with unshed tears and he felt so, so weak. 

 

“...and I’m sorry, for everything,” Stiles continued.

 

“ _ Don’t _ ,” Derek muttered, “don’t apologize if you don’t mean it.” 

 

Stiles let out a broken noise, his palms pressed against his amber eyes, “I wouldn’t be here if I didn’t mean it Derek.” 

 

“What does this mean? What do you want?” Derek asked. 

 

“You. I want you, and I was too blind to see that before I guess,” Stiles shrugged, “and if you’ll have me that’d be pretty great too.” 

 

Derek didn’t remember when they collided, but all he could focus on now was the strong embrace he was wrapped in. It was everything he remembered and everything he’s craved with the last five months. 

  
They held on like letting go meant the end of the world, and for the first time in a long time Derek could finally breathe again.


	2. “I’m not your boss? Well then who is?”

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Mr. Hale, morning. This is an...unexpected visit. What can I do for you?” Stiles asked, shaking his boss’ hand. 
> 
> Derek stepped forward, “actually. It’s what I can do for you….congratulations Mr. Stilinski, we’re offering you a promotion.”

For months this is how things have been running at the office. 

 

It’s just another typical day at the office; people milling about, paperwork being exchanged, the usual. Stiles was in his office, finishing up with an important call about some budget issue or whatever, when there was a knock on his door. 

 

His eyes flickered over seeing none other than Derek in the window. Stiles motioned for him to come in. However unlike usual when Derek walked in he didn’t close the door. Actually he was followed in by Peter Hale, the CEO of the company, who ended up closing the door. Instantly Stiles was on his feet praying to any God out there to ensure he didn’t have any sugar on his face from his powdered doughnut. 

 

“Mr. Hale, morning. This is an...unexpected visit. What can I do for you?” Stiles asked, shaking his boss’ hand. 

 

Derek stepped forward, “actually. It’s what I can do for you….congratulations Mr. Stilinski, we’re offering you a promotion.”

 

“What?” Stiles asked, confused as he continued, “Derek are you okay? I’m your senior...well not in age but in position in this company--”

 

“Mr. Stilinski, Stiles if I may,” Peter began, “Derek...my nephew, is one of my partners in the company. Earlier this quarter we got some impressive reviews from your department about you and I sent him down here to see what all of the fuss was about. Apparently he’s so impressed he persuaded me into offering you a higher position.” 

 

Stiles stood behind his desk in silence, his jaw kissing the ground at this point. 

 

“I’m not your boss? Well then who is?” He ended up blurting out.

 

Derek chuckled softly, “well I’m one of Peter’s partners. I’m more or less my own boss.” 

 

Stiles scrubbed a hand down his face before asking Peter to excuse the two of them for a moment. Thankfully the older man complied and left the office swiftly. After a moment of silence Stiles couldn’t help but round his desk and get right up into Derek’s face. 

 

“You conniving little shit!” Stiles snapped at Derek, pointer finger jabbing his...wow super toned chest, “for months you’ve been here...and I’ve been ordering you around! You’re  _ my  _ boss. Not to mention the, now that I think about it,  _ super inappropriate _ flirting. Was that a test? Were you just seeing if I was a total sleaze? I’m not just by the way, you’re just incredibly hot and--”

 

“Stiles,” Derek interrupted. 

 

Stiles shut his mouth, mentally cursing himself for the word vomit. 

 

“Everything that happened was because I wanted it to happen.”

 

“So...what you're saying is you want a hot office romance with me?” Stiles asked hopefully. 

 

Derek shrugged with a shy blush, “well I was thinking more of dinner for two tonight, to celebrate your promotion?”  

 

“Will there be desert?” Stiles asked.

 

“I think we can think of something,” Derek winked.

  
Stiles ended up getting the promotion, the desert, and Derek.


	3. “We're playing checkers. If you don't like it, leave.”

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “What the fresh fuck is going on?” Stiles gaped from the doorway.
> 
> Peter threw him a sly grin that honestly made Stiles feel dirty, “we're playing checkers. If you don't like it, leave.”
> 
> “I don't like you, leave,” Stiles shot back.

Of all things Stiles had expected when walking into the loft Peter Hale wasn’t one of them. Professional psycho, pathological liar and manipulator, and douche bag extraordinaire. Considering everything he's done seeing him in close proximity to Derek was even more mind blowing.

 

Well...actually the most mind blowing thing was the fact they were playing checkers. 

 

Fucking checkers.

 

“What the fresh fuck is going on?” Stiles gaped from the doorway.

 

Peter threw him a sly grin that honestly made Stiles feel dirty, “we're playing checkers. If you don't like it, leave.”

 

“I don't like you, leave,” Stiles shot back and shut the door behind him before he made his way towards Derek on the couch. 

 

Peter made an affronted sound as he moved one of his red pieces, taking one of Derek's in the process.

 

“Since when do you like checkers?” Stiles asked as he sat beside the Alpha.

 

Derek didn't answer the question, rather he sat straight and swiped the game pieces to the side before he started to put them away, “I’ll call you with an answer. Don’t contact me until then.” 

 

The older Hale remained stoic as he watched the pieces be put back, their game completely ruined. Stiles almost told Peter leave again, but once the game was cleaned and silence settled over them the man stood with an over dramatic sigh and headed to the door. Before leaving Peter threw a “thank you Nephew” and Stiles flipped him off, Derek opted to say nothing. 

 

Once it was just the two of them hands gripped his sides and hoisted him over until he was deposited on Derek’s lap. Understanding Stiles wrapped his arms around Derek’s neck, pressing the man’s face into his chest. There was a small whine and hands held him tighter than before; it made Stiles’ frown in concern.  

 

“What was that all about?” Stiles asked after a while. 

 

“The city wants to claim my family’s land in the preserve,” Derek said, “and Peter wants me to buy the city out of it.” 

 

“And he can’t do that why? One hundred and seventeen million split between you, him, and Cora leaves you all with thirty nine million each,” Stiles reminded, his fingers tilting Derek’s chin up so their eyes met. 

 

Derek shook his head, “we don’t have access to all of it, plus Peter blew his on investments and outrageous purchases. We aren’t asking Cora because...she’s happy, we both agreed not to drag her back unless necessary.” 

 

“You’re going to buy the property, aren’t you?”

 

“Of course I am, and when I do it will be in my name so Peter has no ties.”

 

“Does that mean we can kill him if he trespasses?” Stiles asked, eyes widening. 

 

Derek laughed, “we’ll see about that.”

 

Stiles grinned and leaned in, hiding the smile in a soft kiss, “you never answered my question though.”

 

Derek’s eyebrows furrowed. 

 

“Since when do you like checkers?” 

 

“I don’t, Peter does, and we needed something to do so we wouldn’t kill each other. I couldn’t get him to play chess,” Derek said honestly. 

 

“Good,” Stiles said, “because chess is the best. You get to be my king.” 

 

“You’re cheesy.” 

 

“No actually I believe I get to be the queen.” 

 

They end up playing chess, and Stiles lets Derek win.


	4. “Just don’t buy a goat. I don’t care what you do, just no goats."

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Just don’t buy a goat. I don’t care what you do, just no goats," Derek said.
> 
> “So a hairless cat--?” Stiles suggested.
> 
> “No goats. No hairless cats,” Derek said sharply.

“We should get a pet,” Stiles thought out loud.

 

There was a long pause before...

 

“Just don’t buy a goat. I don’t care what you do, just no goats,” came Derek’s response. Stiles failed on the couch, and while his computer didn’t fall he did end up smacking his foot on the coffee table pretty hard. 

 

“So a hairless cat--?”

 

“No goats. No hairless cats,” Derek said sharply while he crossed the room and ended up seated under where Stiles’ legs had been spread out. Maybe a goat wasn’t there thing, but Derek did say he didn’t care. A hairless cat could be totally cool with all the weird skin and big ass eyes. It would probably hate Derek and Stiles would enjoy every second of them hissing and growling at each other. 

 

The hand rubbing his calf pulled him out of his thoughts. 

 

“How about a fish? Those are easy,” Derek suggested. 

 

Stiles rolled his eyes, “Derek those are the worst. No tricks, no cuddles, no nothing.” 

 

“You can cuddle with me when I’m in full shift, not quite a dog but close.” 

 

“Last time I tried to make you play fetch you got all growly and pissy.” 

 

Derek huffed and sunk back into the couch, “while I look like a dog I’m  _ still  _ intelligent in that form.”

 

“Oh so you want me to stop doing that ear scratch thing--” Stiles started with a smirk

 

“I didn’t say that,” Derek rushed out before adding, “how about a real dog. One that will play fetch with you and one that would listen to me.” 

 

For a moment Stiles thought it over, rolling his lips between his teeth before pulling up a new tab on his computer. 

 

“Alright, but we’re naming him Goat,” Stiles said with finality. 

 

“Only you would name a dog Goat,” Derek laughed, “but sure. We can name him Goat.” 


	5. “Come over here and make me."

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Hey baby,” Stiles smiled, knowing exactly what Derek was looking at. 
> 
> The man stood up straighter, clearing his throat, “mind standing up straight?” 
> 
> “I don’t know, I’m pretty comfy. Plus you seem like you’re enjoying the view.”
> 
> Derek growled lowly, eyes flashing blue for a moment before shutting the office door, “don’t. Just stand up.” 
> 
> “Come over here and make me,” Stiles teased.

“Hey Tara, Dad in the office?” 

 

“No, he went out for backup on a 916 out in Hilly Valley. Feel free to wait in his office darling.” 

 

Stiles smiled at the woman behind the desk and gave her an appreciative wave before he slipped passed. The station was void of a lot of officers, a few strung here and there but for the most part it was pretty empty. He weaved around desks before approaching his dad’s office, stepping in easily. 

 

The first thing he noticed was the greasy odor of fast food. Stiles went wide eyed and looked at the desk seeing no evidence of the contraband. With a few steps he bent over and glanced in the trash seeing a burger wrapper, lettuce, and a fountain drink inside. 

 

“You’re  _ so  _ dead, nothing but tofu for the next week I swear to God--”

 

“Stiles?” A familiar voice called out. 

 

Instead of standing up like a normal person he just bent further over, looking through his legs upside down to see the office door. Derek stood there in his deputy uniform, looking all...badass and sexy. Seriously it’s like the department didn’t have a shirt big enough to fit his obscene biceps. The man paused, green-blue eyes darkening considerably in a certain way Stiles was very familiar with. 

 

“Hey baby,” Stiles smiled, knowing exactly what Derek was looking at. 

 

The man stood up straighter, clearing his throat, “mind standing up straight?” 

 

“I don’t know, I’m pretty comfy. Plus you seem like you’re enjoying the view.”

 

Derek growled lowly, eyes flashing blue for a moment before shutting the office door, “ _ don’t _ . Just stand up.” 

 

“Come over here and make me,” Stiles teased, shaking his ass and the next thing he knows he suddenly sitting on his father’s desk with his hot boyfriend between his legs. This was a plan Stiles could totally get on board with. His hands rested on the sharp V of the man’s hips, pulling them closer until their groins were flush. 

 

“You’re a  _ menace _ , your father--” Derek started

 

“--is all the way down in Hill Valley on a 916 domestic call. Don’t worry,” Stiles finished, teeth nipping at Derek’s earlobe. 

 

Derek shivered, neck tilting to the side to let Stiles continue his workings. He did just that, mouthing at the stubbled skin, teeth and tongue working on bruises that vanished a second or two after he pulled back. Regardless it had Derek all but panting in his ear and holding tight. Their hips ground together, their pace near insatiable. 

 

“Hmm,  _ fuck _ ,” Stiles groaned, pulling back so there was a small bit of space between them. Derek’s face was flushed, pupils swallowed his irises, and it’s the best thing Stiles’ has seen all day. 

 

“You’re wasting time,” Derek growled. 

 

“Shh, I got you,” Stiles said and kissed Derek, his hands making quick work of the man’s utility belt and pants. They broke apart, foreheads against each other’s, as Stiles wormed his hand into Derek’s pants, cupping his hard-on. Derek moaned, arching into the touch and Stiles gave him a playful squeeze. 

 

There was his name being gasped out but he didn’t register it as being a warning one rather than a sexy one. So when the door busted open and Stiles’ hand was still hidden in Derek’s pants...well it was quite the surprise. 

 

Their heads swiveled to the the right, only to see the Sheriff standing there with a livid look on his face. Jeez, there was even a vein popping out of his neck.

 

“Whoa---hey Daddy, what’s...what’s hanging?” Stiles stuttered, embarrassment flooding his cheeks. 

 

“Don’t say daddy with your hand in my pants,” Derek muttered. 

 

Stiles looked at him, “not your thing?”

 

“ _ Boys _ !”

 

They both looked back at the Sheriff, and just beyond him Tara and Parish were laughing profusely. Stiles moved and let Derek fix his uniform. He stood and made his way to the trash and held up the fast food items.

 

His father paled. 

 

“Oh yeah. First, we didn’t even get to the  _ good  _ part, I literally just got my hand in his pants--”

 

“Stiles, please shut up,” Derek said, face falling into his hands. 

 

“--anyways...listen Pops. How about we forget this ever happened and you only are forced to eat tofu forrr...two days instead of a week?” Stiles bargained. 

  
His father deflated, shoulders sagging, “out. Both of you out, I need to wipe down my desk.” 


	6. “How long have you been standing there?”

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stiles was standing out in the snow, probably freezing, with an old boom box blasting the Four Tops’ “Baby I Need Your Loving”. They eyes and Stiles’ looked a mix of relieved and hopeful. Derek noted how brilliant Stiles’ smile was. 
> 
> “How long have you been standing there?” Derek called. 
> 
> Stiles turned down the music, “um...long enough that I can’t feel my fingers and face?”

When Derek got to his New York apartment, the last thing he expected was to have several noise complaints on his door. Some were signed by his neighbors and some were anonymous, regardless it was an alarming sight. He barely used his TV, his computer’s volume never went over fifty percent, and he didn’t have guest over often. 

 

So noise complaints wasn’t something he was prepared for.

 

Quickly he gathered them off the door, using his nails to scrape the residual tape from the wood before entering his apartment. Once inside he was greeted with dead silence...which wasn’t quite the criteria for several noise complaints. 

 

He’s been gone for a few hours at most, so what the hell happened? Instead of dwelling on it Derek flicked on the lights and moved to the kitchen.

 

Just as he was about to set down his bag of groceries a loud stream of music echoed outside of his window. It was loud and the sound quality was grainy at best; but the old doo-wop jazz was crystal clear. Without hesitation he flew over to the window, unlocking it before lifting it up, promptly sticking his head out. 

 

Snowflakes and cold wind bit his cheeks and the darkening sky made looking down below a bit of a challenge. However the giant boom box wasn’t hard to spot; it was held up high by familiar looking hands. 

 

Stiles. 

 

Stiles was standing out in the snow, probably freezing, with an old boom box blasting the Four Tops’ “Baby I Need Your Loving”. They eyes and Stiles’ looked a mix of relieved and hopeful. Derek noted how brilliant Stiles’ smile was. 

 

“How long have you been standing there?” Derek called. 

 

Stiles turned down the music, “um...long enough that I can’t feel my fingers and face?”

 

Derek laughed into his hands, from the cheesy bomb box or Stiles’ mild stupidity he didn’t know. He looked back down to Stiles with a sheepish smile on his face. 

 

“Sorry to break it to you, but I haven’t been home all day,” he explained. 

 

“Oh.” 

 

“And your music put about ten noise complaint notices on my door,” he continued. 

 

“Oh.”

 

“Yeah oh,” Derek said before adding, “but I do love the Four Tops.” 

 

Stiles snickered, “dude they’re iconic, I mean the 60s knew how to woo people.” 

 

“So this is you wooing me? I didn’t realize we were we in Say Anything,” Derek teased. 

 

“Well--uh, I was hoping maybe this would--um--” 

 

“Hey Stiles?” 

 

“Yes?” Stiles said. 

 

“You wooed me, stop sputtering like an idiot,” Derek said. 

 

“I’m not a sputtering idiot! You ass!” Stiles gasped but he was clearly amused.  

 

Before Derek could respond the window just beside his smacked open, his neighbor sticking her head out of the window, blonde hair whipping around in the wind. 

 

“Awesome! You got yourself a loud sputtering idiot! Quiet down, yeah?” She said more than asked before slipping back inside. A few moments of silence passed before they both laughed. A few minutes passed before Stiles was in his apartment. A few more minutes passed before they found a pretty fun way to warm up together. 

  
They ended up keeping the boom box. 


	7. “Take. It. Off.”

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Take. It. Off.” 
> 
> Stiles’ eyebrows rose suggestively, “maybe if you ask nicely.”

“Oh my god--  _ DEREK _ !”

 

Derek flinched at Stiles’ scream and nearly vaulted over the chair to get out of the room. The metal spiral staircase creaked beneath every thundering step he took. It was unusual for Stiles to yell, Derek could hear it if he whispered half a mile away. 

 

Regardless Derek sprinted the stairs only to find Stiles standing on their bed, a blinding smile spread across his face. The first thing he noticed was the choice of attire; Batman boxers...and his own sweater. 

 

The one with the thumb holes. 

 

Stiles was cackling as he held his hands out, “why have I never known about this God given gift?”

 

Derek felt his face and ears heat up, his brain forgot about the panic since no smell of distress -- _ other than his own mild embarrassment _ \-- was around. When he failed to answer Stiles fell onto the bed, and ended up bouncing off onto his feet before sauntering over. 

 

“Don’t be embarrassed Der, ‘s cute.”

 

“Take. It. Off.” 

 

Stiles’ eyebrows rose suggestively, “maybe if you ask nicely.” 

 

“Since when do you care about nice?” Derek asked and pulled Stiles in close, scenting his neck where Stiles’ natural smell mixed with his own from the sweater. Long veiny hands ran up Derek’s back and tangled into his hair, and pulled him back to have their eyes meet. 

 

“Since my macho leather wearing werewolf boyfriend has a soft and cozy thumb hole sweater.”

 

“Hmmm, he sounds pretty hot,” he teased.

 

Stiles laughed, leaning his forehead against Derek’s, “shut up.” 

 

“Only if you ask nicely.” 


	8. “You can’t eat solids, only liquids until Thursday."

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “‘M hungry,” he muttered sleepily. 
> 
> “What do you want?” 
> 
> “Steak. Def’nitely steak” 
> 
> “You can’t eat solids, only liquids until Thursday."

“My fa’se feels gone Der,” Stiles slurred, tongue too heavy in his mouth around the ooey gauze.

 

His hands moved up slowly to his cheeks, his fingers prodding at his swollen jaw. Once he registered that it hurt to touch it he pulled back with a grimace. This was such a sham, his wisdom teeth didn’t hurt when they were in! Now that they’re gone it is a world of hurt. 

 

Stiles looked around the loft, frowning when there was nobody in sight...or frowning as best he could, he was really numb. He made a move to push away the blanket on top of him, shakily trying to get on his feet. 

 

“Stiles! Sit down.” 

 

Instantly he fell back on the cushions, startled by the voice. His head craned back to see Derek walk in from the kitchen, weird looking stuff in his hands. 

 

“Derek! I miss’d ya, where did y’go?” Stiles asked. 

 

“I went to get new gauze and some water for you. Stop talking, you need to keep biting the gauze,” Derek said and sat on the coffee table across from Stiles proceeded to rip open a medical packet of gauze. 

 

Then there was suddenly a hand in front of his mouth, waiting expectantly. 

 

“Huh?” 

 

“Spit out your gauze so I can put in the new ones.” 

 

“Ew, you are g’ossss--” 

 

“Stiles just spit them out.”

 

Stiles complied, laughing when the wolf made a disgusted face when the used bloody pads were in his hands. Although he had to say it was pretty gnarly. With ease he opened his mouth again and with a little help he got new gauze in to soak in the blood. 

 

“Lay wi’f me, head hurts,” Stiles muttered and made grabby hands at the older man. 

 

Derek huffed but did so, and Stiles ended up resting back against his boyfriend, all warm and snug. It didn’t do much for his headache or swollen face which he soon learned was very bruised. Then again how could he complain? He was getting cuddles and that was the best. Literally the best thing, especially because it’s with Derek.

 

“‘M hungry,” he muttered sleepily. 

 

“What do you want?” 

 

“Steak. Def’nitely steak” 

 

“You can’t eat solids, only liquids until Thursday,” Derek reminded him and he whined. It got him a kiss on the forehead and a promise for a really good steak when he could eat normal food again. While still upset that he couldn’t eat what he wanted the compromise of applesauce with extra cinnamon wasn’t completely offensive, so he ended up eating half of it before passing out on Derek. 

  
Maybe the next week or so wouldn’t be that bad with his personal servant, boyfriend, and pillow at his side. 


	9. "Who gave you that black eye?"

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “‘S nothing Der, just fell,” Stiles mumbled. 
> 
> “Bull shit Stiles. Who gave you that black eye?” Derek asked keeping his voice a balance of harsh and soft.

“What’s that smell?” Derek asked when his nose picked up on something odd in Stiles’ scent.

Stiles paused, his muscles going all tense, “what’s what smell? I don’t smell anything.”

Derek almost had the urge to sigh dramatically, because of course Stiles couldn’t smell it with his human nose. To avoid that fight he stepped over to the younger man instead, getting into his space to try and pick out the smell. Stiles held his breath, heartbeat spiking enough to have Derek convinced Stiles knew exactly what was going on.

“Are you going to tell me or am I gonna have to figure it out for myself?” Derek frowned.

Stiles opened his mouth a few times before shrinking in on himself and opted to remain silent. He took that as a queue and let his nose guide him. Eventually it lead him to Stiles’ face, in particular his right eye. It was a fake sweetness, and now his eyes could clearly pick up the unusual cakey texture of the skin around there. With a swipe of his thumb two things ended up happening.

Stiles flinched away in pain and make-up smeared away to expose black and blue underneath.

Anger flared in his chest as he pulled Stiles back in, trying to see if he could smell anyone else on Stiles. Just a bare hint of someone else’s scent and he could find them and show them what happens when they mess with his boyfriend.

“‘S nothing Der, just fell,” Stiles mumbled.

“Bull shit Stiles. Who gave you that black eye?” Derek asked keeping his voice a balance of harsh and soft.

“Just...some homophobic asshole I went to school with. It’s nothing serious. I’m not dying.”

Derek shook his head, cupping Stiles’ face in his hands -careful of his eye-, “it’s serious to me when someone hurts you. It’s the last thing I want, ever. Do you understand?”

The younger man’s eyes went glassy and a weak smile danced across his face as he fell into Derek, holding him tight. Derek gladly held Stiles back, his nose buried in soft chestnut hair, breathing in the comforting musky scent that was offered to him. For a while they were like that, just standing there in each other’s arms, silently anchoring themselves together.

“Hey,” Stiles said finally, and pulled back, “do you think you can use your wolfy mojo to make this stop throbbing?”

Derek gently let his palm rest on Stiles’ eye, his veins turning an inky black as he drained the pain. He winced when he felt his own eye throb in sympathy.

“You’re not going to tell me who did this are you?” Derek sighed.

Stiles shook his head, “no, because I don’t really feel like visiting you in prison which is where you’ll end up when you kill him. I’ll heal, and you can mama-wolf me all you want.”

“Deal.” 


	10. “Quit moving, I’m trying to sleep. Wait...are you...what?”

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> For a while Stiles was stuck in the brink of sleep, teetering on the edge of falling into unconsciousness. However every time he thought he was gone Derek just kept fucking moving. Every so often Derek would roll around, pull the covers, or do something that wasn’t sleeping. Then on the rare occasion over the last hour Derek would make some tiny noise (which Stiles barely caught with his shit hearing) that was borderline pornographic. 
> 
> It was eleven thirty, his dick shouldn’t be this hard.

It was his idea to do this, a pack vacation. The destination had been a beach house Derek so kindly rented for them, which was about a six hour drive from Beacon Hills. That being said Scott took forever to get a hold of and by then it was well into the afternoon hours, so they left pretty late. 

 

By the time night fell over them they were more or less halfway there, and none of them felt like driving into the night. So they found a motel on the cheaper side and everyone paired up to get rooms. By the time people had paired it left Stiles and Derek in a pair...which wasn’t terrible but not preferable. 

 

They were also the last to check in, which left them with a single bed bedroom. 

 

Just fucking great. 

 

“I can sleep on the floor?” Derek offered, setting his duffel on the table.

 

“No, I think we can both fit on the bed. I don’t mind,” Stiles shrugged, and kept his cool on the outside while internally he might be flipping the fuck out. Sharing a bed with Derek Hale was high on the “ _ things-Stiles-wants-but-probably-will-never-get _ ” list. He grabbed his pajamas from his bag and moved to the bathroom, shedding of his old clothes in favor of promptly getting comfy and getting into bed. 

 

He drove one of the cars and by doing so ended up being super tired. 

 

Once his teeth were brushed and he was changed he exited the bathroom. Back in the room Derek was in socks - _ oh gross, he slept with socks on? _ \- and grey sweatpants, nothing else. Stiles swore his mouth dried on sight, but who’s wouldn’t? Derek’s chiseled torso was something of Gods, gifted so weak people like him could get inappropriate boners. 

 

Derek brushed passed him to the bathroom, locking himself in without a word. 

 

Stiles yawned, limbs stretched out once he fell into bed. He threw the motel pillow out from under his head and replaced it with his own. Before he got too tired he checked his phone, sending his dad a text to let him know what’s going on before shutting it off along with the light on his side. 

 

Derek walked back in then, collapsing face first on the bed, making both of them bounce for a moment before settling. 

 

“Dramatic much?” 

 

“I was stuck in a car with Jackson, Scott, Allison, and Isaac. Let me have my moment,” Derek growled. 

 

“Alright Grumpywolf, alright,” Stiles sighed and turned over on his side facing away from Derek to give him some space. There was some slight ruffling of covers before the other light was turned off, submerging them in darkness. 

 

For a while Stiles was stuck in the brink of sleep, teetering on the edge of falling into unconsciousness. However every time he thought he was gone Derek just kept fucking moving. Every so often Derek would roll around, pull the covers, or do something that wasn’t sleeping. Then on the rare occasion over the last hour Derek would make some tiny noise ( _ which Stiles barely caught with his shit hearing _ ) that was borderline pornographic. 

 

It was eleven thirty, his dick shouldn’t be this hard.

 

When Derek made another noise and shuffled again Stiles snapped. 

 

“Quit moving, I’m trying to sleep. Wait...are you...what?” Stiles yelled, freezing when he craned his neck to look at Derek. The window’s light  allowed Stiles to see the sheen of sweat beading on Derek’s forehead and his eyes that were blue rather than their natural color. 

 

He was still on his stomach, hands white knuckling his pillow, hips fucking grinding on the mattress. Maybe Stiles was asleep and maybe this was a very very good dream. Derek looked up at him through his lashes, it had Stiles’ stomach in wonderful knots. 

 

“You know there’s a better thing for you to be grinding on right now?” Stiles asked suggestively. 

 

Derek growled lowly, his hands gripping Stiles’ sides before shoving him back until his back was flush with Derek’s chest. The heat of Derek’s skin had Stiles shivering and arching back into it, head thrown back with his neck exposed. The beta attacked his neck, his stubble lined mouth dragging all over his sensitive skin. 

 

Stiles moaned as their bodies worked together, nearly screaming when Derek’s hand was suddenly groping him through his pajamas but didn’t actually take any action to take off the offending material between them. 

 

“You suck,” Stiles whined.

 

“I can if you want me too,” Derek said into the shell of his ear. 

  
The next morning the whole pack was not happy, saying they got no sleep. Stiles shrugged and leaned onto Derek side claiming they slept like babies. Then again who wouldn’t sleep like a baby after being fucked into heaven by the world’s hottest werewolf? 


	11. “And that’s how you ruin a life. Congratulations.”

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It didn’t matter because Stiles still gets to see Derek all soft and mushy, sleeping on his bed like a little wereangel. Stiles crawled up the bed, flopping down only for Derek’s eyes to flicker open suddenly. Arms wrapped around him and Stiles found himself becoming Derek’s replacement for the pillow. 
> 
> “You smell like shit.”
> 
> “Literally or metaphorically?”

“I don’t know what you do with the pack, but you’ve let your grades slip--”

 

“--Dad come on--”

 

“--and I won’t have you missing anymore school--”

 

“--Dad I--”

 

“--and I sure as hell won’t continue to come home to you not being here--”

 

“--Dad--”

 

“--Stiles! Enough. You’re grounded. To and from school, no video games, you can keep you laptop for school only. I expect you to be here. I’ll have Ms. Winkie next door check in on you if it comes down to that,” his father snapped with finality. 

 

Stiles deflated and scrubbed a hand over his face. This wasn’t fair. Maybe a few of his grades have slipped a letter grade, maybe his attendance has gone to shit, and maybe he hasn’t been home as often. The pack needed him though. He was the Google-Guy, the man with the plan, the bro with the brains. 

 

They’d probably sink with out him...or something.

 

“Oh my God, seriously? This is what I get for helping save the town?” Stiles asked.

 

His father crossed his arms, “you’re seventeen Son, focus on physics or something.” 

 

“Scott is gonna die without me! Lydia is gonna break a heel! Derek is probably gonna get in a pissing match with Peter!” Stiles tried, arms waving around to emphasize his point. 

 

“I’m trying to keep you safe, maybe prolong your life too?” 

 

Stiles rolled his eyes and started off to the stairs turning back to stay, “and this is how you ruin a life. Congratulations Daddy-o!” 

 

As he marched up the stairs he could hear his father mumble something about “angsty teenagers” which ouch. Stiles was not an angsty teenager, he just wanted to look out for his friends, his pack. Was that too much to ask? Obviously it was because he was under house arrest. 

 

He got to his room, gasping when his skin was met with cold air from the open window--

 

Open window?

 

His eyes finally landed on Derek who was on his bed, passed out and curled around one of his pillows. Stiles shut his door and locked it behind him, quietly took off his shoes, before crossing his room to the bed. The man looked content and relaxed, mouth parted with soft snores. A few months ago he might’ve freaked out over Derek Hale just being in his bed randomly. However recently they’ve been hanging out...just the two of them, which was weird at first but slowly it’s become something they both enjoy. Maybe even something they both look forward to. 

 

They didn’t have a label yet. 

 

It didn’t matter because Stiles still gets to see Derek all soft and mushy, sleeping on his bed like a little wereangel. Stiles crawled up the bed, flopping down only for Derek’s eyes to flicker open suddenly. Arms wrapped around him and Stiles found himself becoming Derek’s replacement for the pillow. 

 

“You smell like shit.”

 

“Literally or metaphorically?” Stiles asked which got him a flick to the ear. 

 

“You smell like anger and anxiety, what happened?” 

 

Stiles paused before letting out a sigh, hiding his face in Derek’s chest, “my dad grounded me for being with the pack too much.” 

 

“Oh.” 

 

“Yeah, so I’m on lockdown until I die.” 

 

Derek’s hand ran through his hair, “I’m here. So lockdown isn’t that bad.” 

 

“Since when are you this good with words?” Stiles teased, looking up with a smirk.

  
A quick flutter of kisses were pressed along his jaw and face, and Derek pulled back with a shrug. Stiles chuckled and pressed himself back into the older man, his hands fiddling with the soft cotton of his henley. Derek held him close, giving him an update of some pack stuff that happened after he left. 


	12. "They didn't just find out. They already knew!"

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Derek Samuel Hale! I am very upset right now and I request hugs and love from you before I die of mortification!” Stiles yelled as he entered the loft, footfalls heavy and possibly a little over dramatic. From the left Derek emerged from the kitchen in an oversized worn sweater, basketball shorts, and feet adorned in one black and one white sock.

“Derek Samuel Hale! I am very upset right now and I request hugs and love from you before I die of mortification!” Stiles yelled as he entered the loft, footfalls heavy and possibly a little over dramatic. From the left Derek emerged from the kitchen in an oversized worn sweater, basketball shorts, and feet adorned in one black and one white sock. 

 

Stiles felt some of his anger and disappointment fade at the adorable sight.  

 

“Did they not take it well?” Derek asked as he approached and wrapped his arms around Stiles’ waist. 

 

Stiles rolled his eyes, “no they took it in stride Derek!” 

 

“That’s a bad thing?” Derek asked, brows furrowed in confusion.

 

“They didn’t just find out,” he said, “they already knew!” 

 

Then Derek was laughing, head thrown back, his Adam’s apple bobbing with the sound. Stiles had the urge to punch Derek and to kiss him, he didn’t know which he wanted to do more at the moment. 

 

“This isn’t funny Derek! This was a big thing, it was supposed to be this whole tear jerker sobby moment. No...my dad just laughed, Scott grinned with a thumbs up, and Melissa informed me that everyone knew!” Stiles explained frantically, his hand movements nearly smacking his boyfriend in the face. 

 

Derek sighed and one hand inched up to play at the fading marks on his neck, “you haven’t been subtle about it. Not that I mind, I like it when you show these off.” 

 

“Stop it, you’re gonna turn me on with your possessive wolf stuff.”

 

“Oh no you’ve found out my plan.”

 

“Damn, well I mean I did ask for hugs and love,” Stiles shrugged, their noses brushing against each other’s a few times. 

 

“Anything for my emotionally wounded boyfriend. I mean having your family accept your sexuality and me is just the worst,” Derek said and Stiles paused, frowning.

 

“Stop, now I sound like an asshole. I was nervous, I just expected at least my dad to have something to say other than laughing about me taking so long,” Stiles said and pulled back, their hands tangled as he pulled Derek towards the bed. He pushed the older man down so he was laying on his back and Stiles took the opportunity to straddle him. 

 

Hands flew to his thighs, ass, and lower back; Derek pulling him close. Stiles smiled and kissed him, the kiss deep and full of lust, their tongues mapping each other’s mouths. 

 

“Now this is what I call hugs and love,” Stiles muttered, trailing his kisses down Derek’s neck to his collar. 

 

“Stop with the jokes, or I’m not blowing you,” Derek moaned and Stiles took that threat very seriously.


	13. "I'm your husband. It's my job."

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Oh lots of love for you. What’s with the food? Did I do something awesome?” Stiles asked. 
> 
> Derek kissed his forehead before resting them together, “no. I’m your husband. It’s my job.”

Stiles pulled at the ends of his hair and his glasses fell off his nose. At the moment he was basically drowning in his work, the office desk littered with papers and books. All the research he was doing was hitting a dead end. 

 

It’s been a long day, and he wanted nothing more than to just flop into bed and sleep for twelve hours. 

 

There was a knock on the door to the office and Stiles looked up and Derek walked in, still clad in his deputy uniform. There was a familiar take out bag in his hand and Stiles almost moaned at the smell of the food. He stood and made grabby hands for the bag which the older man handed to him quickly. 

 

Stiles wasted no time opening the bag and pulling out a curly fry, popping it into his mouth with an excited noise. 

 

“No love for me?” Derek asked, leaning on the desk. 

 

Stiles looked over to Derek, a handful of curly fries sticking out of his mouth. He swallowed it quickly with a gulp from the drink Derek had also gotten him. With a smile on his face he moved over and crowded Derek’s space, fingers wound in the man’s belt loops and pulled them together. 

 

“Oh lots of love for you. What’s with the food? Did I do something awesome?” Stiles asked. 

 

Derek kissed his forehead before resting them together, “no. I’m your husband. It’s my job.” 

 

“Are you telling me I’m not awesome?” Stiles teased. 

 

“You are awesome, you just didn’t do anything awesome to get the food. I just did it because I love you,” Derek smiled and kissed him properly this time. Stiles leaned into it, getting lost for a moment, before his brain reminded him of curly fries and work. He pulled back with a frown, not wanting to do anything but eat his feast and relax with his husband. 

 

“What’s got you upset?”

 

“Research for a column the paper wants me to do. It’s not working the way I want it to, a bunch of dead ends keep popping up,” Stiles explained. 

 

“How about you take a break, we go relax on the couch. You eat, we can cuddle up, rent a movie? It’ll clear your head,” Derek offered. 

 

Stiles looked at Derek’s kaleidoscope eyes, his chest fluttering like he was a fucking teenager again. He gave himself a moment to catalogue Derek’s features before nodding with a smile, grabbing his food before linking their fingers. 

 

“Can we rent the new Batman movie?” Stiles asked as they walked to the living room.

 

“I want a few curly fries in that case.”

 

“Der, you’ve lost your mind,” Stiles laughed. 

  
They did in fact end up sharing the fries. 


	14. "Hold my hand so he gets jealous."

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Your face isn’t sorry looking,” Derek said instantly, clearing his throat, “and I’m Derek by the way.” 
> 
> “Stiles, thanks for that...you’re uh, good at that. Kissing. I mean even Douchasaurus-Ex bought it,” the guy, Stiles, said and tacked a lame laugh at the end.

Derek is sitting at a cafe on campus working on his senior thesis. His fingers ache, the coffee he drank has his heart hammering, and his eyes hurt from staring at the screen and his notes even with his glasses on. It’s nearing the end of the year and Derek can taste the freedom from school and he’s having a hard time finding drive to keep going. He loves his thesis and the topic he picked was everything he wanted.

 

It didn’t mean he wasn’t tired, because he was. 

 

A part of him wanted to order another coffee, and he was about to stand up and get one but he was suddenly not alone. There was a warm body right next to him and soft words muttering “ _ I’m not crazy, just play along and I’ll give you fifty bucks _ ” and that’s how he ended up with a pale whisky eyed boy holding him like they were boyfriends. 

 

Derek almost flinched away from the contact but managed to not, forcing a smile on his face like he was enjoying this. 

 

“Hey baby, how’s uh, the paper going?” The guy asked. 

 

“Hey,” Derek said, “fine. Fingers hurt from typing for so long. Missed you.”

 

The guy frowned and said in a whisper, “hold my hand so he gets jealous.” 

 

Derek didn’t move, because hand holding was not something to get jealous over. At least not in his book, and if this guy really wanted to make whoever he was talking about jealous Derek had a much better idea. He let his hand rise and cup the other man’s face, and he could feel the slightest prick of stubble beneath the touch. With little hesitation he leaned in and their lips met. 

 

The guy tensed up for a moment before kissing back, maybe with a little more eagerness than Derek was giving. Regardless of the situation he found himself enjoying the kiss; it’s been awhile since Derek has had this kind of contact. The guy leaned into him fully and Derek couldn’t help but let out a small noise when hands wove into his hair and pulled a little bit. 

 

By the time they pulled away both red faced, breathless, and showing off kiss bruised lips there was a slamming of a chair from the middle of the cafe. Everyone including Derek jumped and watched as some blonde guy stormed out of the coffee house, giving him and the other guy a heated glare. 

 

Derek sat still for a moment, processing what happened while the guy was pulling out his wallet which looked scarily thin and worn. Based on that alone Derek figured this guy was probably an underclassmen. 

 

“You don’t have to,” Derek said, shoving the outstretched fifty dollar bill away from him.

 

The guy rolled his eyes, “you had to kiss this sorry looking face. Just take the money, I owe you for that.” 

 

“Your face isn’t  _ sorry looking _ ,” Derek said instantly, clearing his throat, “and I’m Derek by the way.” 

 

“Stiles, thanks for that...you’re uh, good at that. Kissing. I mean even Douchasaurus-Ex bought it,” the guy, Stiles, said and tacked a lame laugh at the end. 

 

Derek couldn’t help but want to hear that laugh again. 

 

“Douchasaurus-Ex?” He asked because that was a new one for him. 

 

Stiles scratched the back of his neck, “you know like Tyrannosaurus Rex...but like my douche bag ex that won’t stop talking to me. I have a terrible sense of humor.”

 

“No…I like it, it’s clever,” Derek smiled before asking, “can I buy you a coffee?”

  
“Hell yes you can,” Stiles grinned.


	15. "You're cute when you're all worried."

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Derek, you need to calm down. Everything is going to be okay,” she reassured him.
> 
> “Where is he? Is he okay I need, I need to--!”
> 
> “He just got out of emergency surgery, come on, I’ll take you to his room,” Melissa said and made a motion for him to follow.

Derek...Derek felt like he was about to vomit, his nerves frayed beyond repair as he busted through the hospital emergency doors. At this point he barely had enough restraint to stay human, every fiber of his being to the marrow of his bones screaming at him to shift. His gums and nails itched with it and panic settled in his chest like cement. 

 

Melissa rushed over then, her small hands gripping his shoulders with surprising strength.

 

“Derek, you need to calm down. Everything is going to be okay,” she reassured him.

 

“Where is he? Is he okay I need, I need to--!”

 

“He just got out of emergency surgery, come on, I’ll take you to his room,” Melissa said and made a motion for him to follow. 

 

On numb legs Derek followed the nurse. It felt like there was cotton stuffed in his ears and even though his eyes were open he couldn’t see and process what was in front of him. His only thought was Stiles. He couldn’t wrap his mind around this. This morning they were cuddled up in bed trying to stay in as long as possible before they needed to go to work, and now he’s in the hospital having being told “ _ Mr. Hale you need to get to Beacon Memorial, your husband’s been in an accident _ ”. 

 

“Tell me what happened,” Derek said suddenly, breaking the silence in the elevator. 

 

Melissa gave him a soft look, “from what the EMTs told us he was in a car accident. The Jeep didn’t do much in the way of protection when the collision was at around thirty five miles per hour. There was a huge piece of metal shoved through his shoulder and he had some internal bleeding. Other than that his left leg is broken, two of his fingers are jammed, and we suspect he has a concussion. We’ll know that when he wakes up.” 

 

Derek tensed, his hand covering his mouth to prevent an actual breakdown in the elevator before they even arrived to the right floor. 

 

“That being said Derek, I’ve known Stiles all his life. If anything he’s a fighter, he’ll wake up soon and he’ll probably crack a joke or three like nothing happened.”

 

As much as he hurt right now Melissa was probably right, and the suggestion was enough to keep him on his feet. Derek followed her out and down the hall, bypassing a nurse station in the ICU before entering a room. It smelled terribly clinical but other than that all he could smell was blood, pain, and an IV drip. Derek shoved the curtain out of the way and let tears freely fall down his cheeks. 

 

Stiles’ entire leg was in a cast and propped up. Two of his fingers were in a splint. A gauze pad was on his temple and under it there were probably stitches. While he couldn’t see it with the blankets and gown he could scent the raw wound on his shoulder along his rib area underneath it all. Other than that it was just bruises and grime on his skin. 

 

Autopilot took over and he grabbed a chair, getting it as close to the bed as possible before sitting down. Melissa checked something on a monitor nearby and injected some pain killer into the IV, saying in the likely case he’ll wake up soon he won’t be in agonizing pain. 

 

Agonizing pain. Stiles shouldn’t be in any pain at all. 

 

She left soon after and Derek held Stiles’ good hand, sitting and waiting. The clock ticked and every second that passed felt like forever. Derek opted to focus on the steady rhythm of his husband’s heart, finding comfort in that when it seemed like nothing else could. 

 

It was dark outside by the time he felt fingers clutch his hand tightly. 

 

Derek’s eyes snapped open, looking over at Stiles in an instant. The man could barely crack open his eyes but there was a dopey looking grin on his face.

 

“You’re all cute when you’re all worried,” Stiles rasped, voice broken and weak. 

 

Derek let out a sob, kissing Stiles’ hand and holding on tight, “I have a right to be worried. I was called in here because you were in an accident!”

 

“Oh..yeah..I don’t think Roscoe ‘s gonna make it outta this one,” Stiles frowned, wincing when he tried to reposition himself. Obviously he didn’t know the extent of his injuries because Stiles was gasping and removing his hand from Derek’s shakily poking his cast, “I broke my leg?” 

 

“Yeah.”

 

“I’m such a badass. Can’t get rid of me that easily.” 

 

Derek let out a small laugh and shook his head, “no and I’m glad. I’m gonna go get the nurse.” 

 

He stood slowly, boots smacking against the linoleum. 

 

“Der?” Stiles croaked. 

 

“Yeah?” Derek asked, and turned back. 

 

“Love you, ‘m sorry I scared you.”

  
“I love you too. Rest babe, everything’s gonna be fine.” 


	16. "You're not as quiet as you think you are."

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> From the start Derek knew this was a challenge Stiles couldn’t win because he was already panting, and making the sweetest little sounds. So when Stiles started canting his hips into Derek’s mouth, cursing under his breath Derek couldn’t find it in himself to care.
> 
> “Oh God...Derek--fuck,” Stiles moaned form above.

Derek leaned his forehead against Stiles’, their harsh panting mingled between them and was the only noise in the room. Stiles’ amber eyes were blown wide to the point where the iris was just a thin band around the pupil. His cheeks and chest were flushed a rosy red, chest heaving, and lips shiny with spit. Derek’s thumb pulled at his bottom lip, relishing how Stiles’ breath hitched with it. 

 

“Please--”

 

“Shh, we’re in the janitor’s closet in case you forgot,” Derek said quietly.

 

Stiles frowned and arched his hips into Derek’s in the most sinful way possible. It had his head spinning slightly, dizzy with arousal. His boyfriend’ eagerness only fueling him further. 

 

“Think you can be quiet?” He asked. 

 

Stiles smirked, “that a challenge Hale?” 

 

“If you want it to be Stilinski,” he said and sucked another mark into Stiles’ collar. The moment he did he could tell the boy wanted to make a noise but he remained quiet. So it was most definitely a challenge. Derek made quick work of the buttons of Stiles’ flannel, kissing down his chest and nipping as he went. 

 

When his teeth pulled at one of Stiles’ nipples, Stiles nearly lost it then and there. 

 

So maybe Derek was playing a little dirty, knowing Stiles’ nipples were sensitive. He got a small smack to the arm and he laughed under his breath before he sunk to his knees. The hard concrete floor wasn’t super comfortable but he ignored it, focusing on unzipping and pulling Stiles’ pants and boxers down.

 

His cock sprung free from the confines, bobbing in the chilled air around them. Derek looked up to Stiles who had his hands braced on the shelves behind him. He turned his attention back to Stiles’ dick, wrapping a hand around it and using his tongue to lave at the bead of precum. The taste of Stiles exploded on his tongue and pulled him in, allowing him to wrap his lips around his cock, bobbing rhythmically. 

 

A hand slid into his hair, the grip tight and urging him to continue. It was weird not having Stiles’s words to encourage him and praise him. Despite that he took what he could and took more of Stiles into his mouth, his hands kneading at the soft globes of his pale ass. His fingers brushed the hidden pucker there a few times. 

 

From the start Derek knew this was a challenge Stiles couldn’t win because he was already panting, and making the sweetest little sounds. So when Stiles started canting his hips into Derek’s mouth, cursing under his breath Derek couldn’t find it in himself to care. 

 

“Oh God...Derek--fuck,” Stiles moaned form above. 

 

Derek hung onto every word and sound, swallowing around Stiles as he came. His hips fluttered and muscles went taut with release. For a moment he kept his mouth on Stiles’ dick until he was being batted away with a “ _ too much babe. _ ”

 

He sat back on his heels, using the back of his hands to wipe the spit from his mouth. After a moment he stood back up, both of them grinning like idiots as they kissed. Things were heating up again and Derek let out a pleased sound when Stiles made a move to reciprocate.

 

“You’re not as quiet as you think you are,” came a voice from the other side of the closet door.

 

Keys jiggled and they both rushed to clothe themselves and did so just in time. The door swung open to expose an elderly janitor with an unimpressed look on his face. 

 

“Both of ya, out.” 

  
Derek nodded and grabbed Stiles’ hand, dragging him out into the hall. Once they were up the stairs they traded a look and let out laughs because if they were being honest quiet wasn’t really their thing.


	17. “You haven’t even touched your food. What’s going on?”

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Have you ever thought of like...settling down?” Stiles asked. 
> 
> Derek raised an eyebrow, “settling down?”

“You haven’t even touched your food. What’s going on?” Derek asked. 

 

Stiles blinked a few times before looking over to Derek whose face was full of concern. They were sitting on the couch of the loft, take out boxes in hand with his laptop playing something on Netflix. He’s already forgotten what they had picked. 

 

“Nothing, just not feeling great,” Stiles shrugged, forcing a piece of orange chicken in his mouth even though he’s lost his appetite. 

 

“Like sick or just not in a good mood?” 

 

“Not in a good mood.”

 

“Care to tell me why?”

 

He shrugged again and put his food onto the coffee table to pause the movie. The loft fell into silence. Thinking about it he looked around; their bed was just over in the corner, there were a few rusted nails in the beams above, the metal staircase was getting old, it felt too much like a party pad and not enough of a home.

 

“Have you ever thought of like...settling down?” Stiles asked. 

 

Derek raised an eyebrow, “settling down?” 

 

“Yeah. A real house, 2.5 kids, a dog, that kind of thing,” Stiles expanded. 

 

“2.5 kids? I think a whole number is better like two or three,” Derek joked but even to Stiles it fell flat, “but it’s come to mind a few times. Why is that bothering you tonight?”

 

“I dunno just been thinking about it lately. Scott and Ally are married, they have a house, I’m pretty sure she’s pregnant and they’re not telling us yet. Erica and Boyd are at least in an apartment with actual rooms and quality plumbing...long story short do you see that happening...with us?” He rambled, his shoulders shrinking a little when he left the heavy question lingering in the air.

 

Derek set his own food down, his eyebrows drawn up like they did when he was thinking or contemplating something. It worried Stiles, because if Derek was thinking about it then it probably meant he’s never seen them like that. No cute dog, no small children that would run into their room in the morning begging for breakfast, no bedroom in their suburban house. 

 

No nothing. 

 

Then Derek’s fingers found his chin and made Stiles look at him, the eye contact intense and put a shiver through him.

 

“I want that with you, all of it, I just wasn’t sure how to bring it up.”

 

Stiles’ jaw dropped taking in that information. If he had known that they’d be out of this loft like yesterday. A grin crossed his face as he leaned into Derek, hiding his face into the older man’s neck. 

 

“Now that we have that out of the way I’m thinking we get a German Shepherd,” Stiles said into Derek’s collar. 

 

There was a small laugh, “sure. German Shepherd sounds good. Let’s just get out of the loft first.”


	18. "Don't be an asshole. Asshole."

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “I’ll stop if Derek wants me to,” Stiles teased, looking back to Derek, “do you?”
> 
> Derek growled at him, “don’t be an asshole….asshole.” 
> 
> “Fine I won’t be an asshole but as for my literal asshole--”

“Stilinski get your feet out of my face!” 

 

It was pack night at the newly renovated Hale house, everyone piled up in the living room in a heap of bodies and blankets. A movie half liked and half didn’t was playing on the TV, washing the dark room in dull color changes with each scene. Stiles was currently curled into Derek’s side, head resting on the man’s chest. 

 

“You’re fault for sitting there,” Stiles huffed but still pulled his legs up higher. 

 

“My fault? Seriously you’re taking up half the fucking couch.”

 

“What can I say? I like my space.” 

 

Others shushed him, well the ones invested in the movie. Meanwhile others were on their phones or dozing off. Stiles...wasn’t doing either of those options. Instead he let his ear listen to the rhythmic beat of Derek’s heart, fingers tickling the back of the wolf’s hand. 

 

It was nights like this, when they were all together and all safe that were his favorite. Sure, everyone - _ like Jackson _ \- could be a pain in the ass but he learned to enjoy those moments too. Stiles favorite thing was Derek’s smile...the hidden expression he’s learned to love so much that come out more often than not on these nights. 

 

Those were the best. 

 

“Stop thinking, it’s distracting,” Derek whispered in his ear. 

 

“Ignore me,” Stiles said, hugging himself tighter to the man. 

 

He could feel Derek roll his eyes as he settled down and Stiles smirked. The movie went on in a blur and they were just getting to the tail end of it when he was suddenly bored. He’d been bored before but now it was just stupid how bored he was. He moved his hand to pick at the soft cotton of Derek’s shirt instead to see if that was more interesting. 

 

Suddenly Derek took a sharp intake of breath and held Stiles’ hand still by his wrist. Confused he lifted his head up and looked at his boyfriend who looked a little flushed. His mind made the connection then and let his his fingers play with the part of the shirt...just above Derek’s nipple. 

 

“Stiles, stop it,” Scott pleaded from across the couch. 

 

“No keep going, I wanna film it. It’d probably be super hot,” Erica grinned and Boyd let out a strangled noise. 

 

“I’ll stop if Derek wants me to,” Stiles teased, looking back to Derek, “do you?”

 

Derek growled at him, “don’t be an asshole….asshole.” 

 

“Fine I won’t be an asshole but as for my literal asshole--”

 

“And now I feel like vomiting all my popcorn up. Come on Lydia,” Jackson groaned and pulled the redhead out the door. Scott and Allison followed, Isaac, Cora, and Danny as well; meanwhile Erica literally had to be carried out by Boyd. 

 

Stiles leaned in, “well we’re alone now...still want me to stop?” 

 

Derek answered by tearing both their clothes off, movie forgotten in the background. 


	19. "Use your words."

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They were in Puerto Rico, Derek rented a small hut for them just along the beach. The past few days have been a dream of tropical drinks, swimming, sightseeing, shopping, watching Derek speak a foreign language; which was hot as fuck if Stiles had anything to say about it. Also a lot of sex, and he almost felt bad for the housekeepers that would come every so often to clean up. 
> 
> Almost.

“I still can’t believe you did this,” Stiles smiled, digging his toes in the sand with each step he took. 

 

They were in Puerto Rico, Derek rented a small hut for them just along the beach. The past few days have been a dream of tropical drinks, swimming, sightseeing, shopping, watching Derek speak a foreign language; which was hot as fuck if Stiles had anything to say about it. Also a lot of sex, and he almost felt bad for the housekeepers that would come every so often to clean up. 

 

Almost.

 

Derek squeezed his hand, pulling him from his thoughts, “you deserve it.”

 

“Don’t get sappy on me my macho werewolf boyfriend...but thank you, this is amazing,” Stiles said, eyes glancing over to the water, the sun setting at the horizon now. 

 

“It was not sappy, just the truth,” Derek said and they both paused as he added, “okay that one was pretty sappy.” 

 

Stiles laughed pressing a kiss to his nose where the setting sun illuminated the soft dusting of freckles there. For a while the kept walking along the shore, the warm ocean lapping at their feet at they walked. The salty breeze pulled at their clothes and the silence was more comfortable than stale. They were just enjoying each other’s company, that being all they needed at the moment. 

 

“I--” Derek started but cut short, not continuing on. 

 

Stiles looked over to him with an arched look, “what?” 

 

Derek shook his head, face heating up and his ears turning pink. He took it upon himself and stopped them both, moving to he was in front of Derek. The man looked down at the sand below and Stiles wasn’t having that. He cupped Derek’s face in his hands and forced them to make eye contact. 

 

There was this nervous and shy look in Derek’s blue-green eyes that put a knot of worry in Stiles’ gut, “use your words.” 

 

It was Derek, so he wasn’t going to use his words, but much to Stiles’ surprise there were suddenly lips on his that melted his worry away. He let out a soft hum and let his eyes slip shut, but he didn’t get to savor the kiss for too long because Derek was gone a moment later leaving him mouthing at the air. 

 

“What--?” He asked, opening his eyes to not see Derek but the beach.

 

He looked down and...oh...Derek is on one knee getting with a simple silver band in his fingers. Stiles stopped breathing for a moment, frozen as he listened to Derek finally use his words. 

 

“I’d use your real name...but I can’t pronounce it even though your dad tried to help me learn. So Stiles Stilinski, will you marry me? That way we have the rest of our lives to help me with Polish pronunciation?” Derek asked, a nervous smile crossing his face. 

 

Stiles used his hands to wipe the tears from his face as he let out a laugh, dropping to his knees to pull Derek in close. 

 

“You’re such a fucking sap,” he cried. 

 

“Is that a yes?” Derek asked, pulling back with the ring still in hand. 

 

Stiles took it and slipped it on, for the first time noticing the small triskele etched into it. It put a blinding smile on his face, “that’s a yes you dork.” 

 

“Dork and a sap?” Derek teased.

 

“I wouldn’t want you any other way.” 


	20. "You know you want it, sweetheart."

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “You know you want it, sweetheart,” there was a nip to his ear, “tell me how much you want it.” 
> 
> Derek let out a broken noise, pressing back into Stiles, “I want it, want you inside me...so bad, please--please. I need you to fuck me.” 
> 
> “You asked so nicely, can’t say no to you when you’re like that,” Stiles whispered, pushing all the way in until his hips were flush against Derek’s ass.

Derek let out a strangled sound when nails scratched up his thighs, the sensation caused a shiver to run through him. A set of teeth nipped at the base of his spine and it pulled a whine out of him. He pulled at the cuffs and chains that held arms and hands snug to the headboard, wanting nothing more than to take what he wants from Stiles.

 

What he needs. 

 

“Shhh, I got you Der,” Stiles soothed, his hot tongue trailing from Derek’s balls to his asshole which sent another wave of arousal through him. 

 

“Stiles--” He wheezed.

 

“Derek. I got you.”

 

The harsh tone was followed by a surprisingly hard smack to his ass, but the same hand soothed over the now reddened skin. 

 

For once in his life he let himself trust and fell limp within the cuffs, it gave Stiles the go ahead. Stiles’ tongue and fingers were working him open. Derek whimpered into the pillow beneath his head, focusing on the feeling of those long talented fingers scissoring him wide. 

 

It made his hips buck back and his back dip in an arch. He didn’t ask again though, didn’t ask for more, he let himself trust Stiles to take care of him. There was another strangled noise punched out of him when Stiles managed to hit the right spot that made his body jerk and tense up with pleasure. 

 

“You taste…” Stiles moaned but didn’t finish the sentence, rather Derek felt Stiles move around behind him, hands leaving feather light touches on his side. 

 

He shivered, even more so when he felt the head of his boyfriend’s dick against this hole but not quite in him yet. At the frustrated growl he let out Stiles draped himself over Derek, mouth pressed against the shell of his ear. 

 

“You know you want it, sweetheart,” there was a nip to his ear, “tell me how much you want it.” 

 

Derek let out a broken noise, pressing back into Stiles, “I want it, want you inside me...so bad, please--please. I need you to fuck me.” 

 

“You asked so nicely, can’t say no to you when you’re like that,” Stiles whispered, pushing all the way in until his hips were flush against Derek’s ass. 

 

The feeling of full and sated fueled the needy arousal in his stomach. Stiles let out a pleased noise before starting to piston his hips rhythmically. The room was hazy and smelled like them and sex. Their bodies were slick with sweat and the heat between them was almost too much. Derek let his head hang between his shoulders, fingers curled around the headboard so tightly it let out creaking noises every now and then. 

 

It’s been so long, he doesn’t remember how long they’ve been at it, but the hand suddenly curled around his dick was more than enough to send him over the edge.

 

“Can I?” He wheezed, barely holding on.

 

“Go ahead, sweetheart.”

 

Derek tensed up, body spasming as it rocked through an orgasm, dirtying the sheets below. Stiles’ rhythm stuttered and suddenly his dick was twitching inside of Derek, panting gasps of pleasure puffed against Derek’s shoulder blade. 

 

The room went quiet other than the uncomfortable sound he made when Stiles pulled out. There was the jingle of keys and his arms were released. He moved just in time to collapse on a dry part of the bed. For a moment he was confused as to where Stiles went but soon he was beside Derek, cleaning him up with a wet cloth. 

 

“You did so good babe,” Stiles praised pressing a kiss to Derek’s forehead. 

  
Derek turned over so they were chest to chest, burying his face into Stiles’ neck, “thank you.”


	21. "You did not just wake me up at 2 am because you were 'in the mood'."

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It’s two in the fucking morning. 
> 
> “Whaa--? Who’s dyin’?” Stiles slurred, sitting up while rubbing the crust from the corner of his eyes. 
> 
> Derek was standing over him, eyes red and bouncing on the balls of his feet. He looked anxious and restless almost. In a way the guy almost looked guilty and afraid which really worried Stiles. 
> 
> “Uh,” Derek said but didn’t continue. 
> 
> “Nobody is dying are they?” Stiles groaned bitterly, flopping backwards onto the pillows. 
> 
> Derek whined, “I am...in a way, technically.” 
> 
> “What?”

Stiles was a sleeper, he enjoyed sleep, it was his number one hobby if he was being perfectly honest. The sad thing was that ever since the whole supernatural thing started back in high school his sleep levels have gone down. He has a harder time getting to sleep and staying asleep. So when he is he’s made a strict “ _ unless someone is actually dead or currently dying do not wake him the fuck up _ ”.

 

It’s worked so far.

 

Except tonight...for whatever reason there’s a hand on his shoulder shaking him from his restful and thankfully dreamless sleep. His eyes flicker open looking at the bleary red letters of the bedside clock. 

 

It’s two in the fucking morning. 

 

“Whaa--? Who’s dyin’?” Stiles slurred, sitting up while rubbing the crust from the corner of his eyes. 

 

Derek was standing over him, eyes red and bouncing on the balls of his feet. He looked anxious and restless almost. In a way the guy almost looked guilty and afraid which really worried Stiles. 

 

“Uh,” Derek said but didn’t continue. 

 

“Nobody is dying are they?” Stiles groaned bitterly, flopping backwards onto the pillows. 

 

Derek whined, “I am...in a way, technically.” 

 

“What?”

 

“I ran with the others, but the full moon still has me...um...restless....in a way the pack can’t necessarily help with,” Derek rushed out, awkwardly the words jumbled together. 

 

“You did not just wake me up at 2am because you were ‘ _ in the mood _ ’.”

 

Derek let out another sound, this one more pained than anything else. Stiles cracked his eyes open again; finally getting a good look at the Alpha. His chest was bare, the smattering of hair across his pecs and navel as present as ever. A layer of sweat was on his skin, the moonlight from the window making it visible to his eyes. Basketball shorts hung low on his hips exposing the v-shape they held.

 

Damn Derek and his insanely gorgeous body.

 

Stiles let out a small frustrated noise before throwing off his shirt and pants. 

 

“Come on big guy, fuck me until your wolfy side is sated so I can---whauh!” 

  
He couldn’t even get the last part of his sentence out before there was a body on top of him and lips smashed against his. Maybe he could let random hours of the night sex be the one exception to his sleep rule. 


	22. "You're so clingy, I love it."

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He didn’t know if it was because his adrenaline was not as concentrated in his system or because Derek is being so kind to him, but his eyes sprung to life with tears and he’s suddenly crying. Two years ago he was a sophomore trying to get better at lacrosse and keep his 4.0. Now he has to be careful with whom he speaks with incase they abduct or murder him to death. 
> 
> Fuck he just wants his life back. 
> 
> “Let it out,” Derek whispered to him, pulling him in close which...was new but Stiles didn’t let it get to him. With sore heavy arms he held Derek close, hiding his face in the shoulder of his henley. Ugly snot and tears ran down his face as he let the past two years flow out of him like a dam breaking.

“Derek I’m fine, ‘s just a few scrapes and bruises,” Stiles shrugged, removing the bloody tissue from his nose. 

 

The mirror in the bathroom finally showed him the extent of the injuries given to him by the hunters. There was a gash in his eyebrow, his nose was probably broken from how painful and bloody it was, his cheek was practically purple. 

 

He didn’t even want to see what other injuries were lurking under his clothes. Then again he’s having a hard time taking full breaths so maybe a look is worth it. He doesn’t have time to think about it because Derek is putting a cotton ball with something on it against the cut on his eyebrow--

 

“--ow! Derek!” He winced, flinching away only to have his ribs protest. 

 

Derek’s hand was on his arm a flash, black veins trailing up his skin only to vanish seconds later. Stiles felt himself get a little loopy with the pain drain, his knees giving out. Then arms were around him and sitting him up on the counter. He leaned against the wall behind him, groaning at the way his body protested. 

 

“You’re not fine, and that’s not okay,” Derek said, and it’s been the first thing he’s said since he found Stiles collapsed on the side of the street. 

 

Stiles frowned, letting his eyes slip shut as Derek continuously drained his pain and cleaned his wounds. He didn’t know how many minutes passed but eventually he was all patched up. A part of his brain wondered why Derek Hale, werewolf extraordinaire, had so many medical supplies? 

 

He didn’t know if it was because his adrenaline was not as concentrated in his system or because Derek is being so kind to him, but his eyes sprung to life with tears and he’s suddenly crying. Two years ago he was a sophomore trying to get better at lacrosse and keep his 4.0. Now he has to be careful with whom he speaks with incase they abduct or murder him to death. 

 

Fuck he just wants his life back. 

 

“Let it out,” Derek whispered to him, pulling him in close which...was new but Stiles didn’t let it get to him. With sore heavy arms he held Derek close, hiding his face in the shoulder of his henley. Ugly snot and tears ran down his face as he let the past two years flow out of him like a dam breaking. 

 

Eventually he calmed enough to feel like he’s overstayed his welcome in Derek’s embrace and moved to pull back. Derek held him tighter, and for whatever reason it got him to laugh. 

 

“You’re so clingy, I love it.” 

 

“Shut up and don’t ruin the moment Stiles.” 


	23. "My name isn't Leslie...who's Leslie?"

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Leslie, seriously knock it off, I’m not talking to him. End of story,” Derek snapped over his shoulder, rounding the corner to the next aisle. 
> 
> “My name isn’t Leslie...who’s Leslie?”
> 
> Derek felt the tip of his ears heat up as he spun on his heel, looking around the aisle corner. Of course...it was him. Once-a-month guy.

Derek scowled as he used the scanner to price check items along the aisles of Home Depot. It wasn’t his first choice of job, not by a long shot, but he needed the money and the hours weren’t terrible. If he was lucky he could make it back to the apartment in time to see Laura before she headed off to work. 

 

He didn’t like the orange apron he had to wear either. 

 

The words of his co-worker still echoed through his head, “ _ you should just talk to him Derek, what’s the worst he could say? _ ”. Leslie had been talking about the once-a-month guy; this pale, beauty marked, bow lipped guy that Derek found really attractive. Except he’s never actually talked to him, and Derek’s pretty sure the guy didn’t even know he existed. 

 

Sure, maybe he hid out in the plumbing sections on the days the guy came in because that’s usually where he’d head to to grab some random part. Maybe Derek would watch from afar because words weren’t his thing and he was too socially awkward to start up a conversation.

 

Well that and the mandatory “ _ hi, welcome to Home Depot can I help you at all today? _ ” he would have to start with. 

 

Angrily he scanned another item, not even flinching when a finger tapped his shoulder. 

 

“Leslie, seriously knock it off, I’m not talking to him. End of story,” Derek snapped over his shoulder, rounding the corner to the next aisle. 

 

“My name isn’t Leslie...who’s Leslie?”

 

Derek felt the tip of his ears heat up as he spun on his heel, looking around the aisle corner. Of course...it was  _ him _ . Once-a-month guy. Derek frowned because he was just in here last week, so him being back so soon was throwing him off. Today he was in a dark flannel and a red hoodie, khakis and old sneakers to top it off. 

 

“Uh, she’s my co-worker,” Derek explained, crossing his arms, “what can I do for you?” 

 

The guy shakily held up a flush valve for a toilet, “I bought the wrong one, I was wondering if you could help? I see you in that section all the time.” 

 

That information has his stomach in knots and his face heat up as well. Before he could think of words he nodded his head and motioned for the guy to follow. The steady squeak of sneakers behind him was reassuring as they crossed the store to plumbing. It wasn’t really  _ his  _ section but he was pretty handy, he could probably help. 

 

Hopefully. 

 

There were only two kinds, one that looked more tube like, and one that looked like a lever system. 

 

“I’d try this one for whatever model toilet you have,” Derek said holding the lever version to the guy who suddenly had this stupidly gorgeous smile on his face. It pulled his cheeks, teeth almost blindingly white and straight, amber eyes lighting up. Derek had to focus on keeping himself on his feet. 

 

“My flush valve is actually fine,” he said.

 

Derek raised an eyebrow, “um...okay? Anything else I can do for you then?”

 

“Me.” 

 

“What?!” Derek sputtered, nearly dropping the piece in his hands. 

 

The guy ran nervous hands through his chestnut hair, “look….you’re not exactly subtle and you’re the Hot-as-the-sun Home Depot guy! So I kind of made an excuse to talk to you with the whole flush valve thing and--”

 

“Derek,” he interrupted.

 

“Huh?”

 

“My name. It’s Derek,” Derek explained.

 

The guy let out a nervous laugh, “I’m Stiles.”

 

“I get off work in thirty minutes if you want to--”

 

“Yes.” Stiles nodded jerkily.

 

Derek couldn’t suppress his own smile, “you don’t even know what I was going to say.” 

 

“Don’t have to. It’s a yes.” Stiles smiled.

  
  



	24. "I lost our child."

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Derek was there, eyes flashing in obvious distress, “Stiles what’s--?”
> 
> “I lost our child,” he rushed out, “one second he was next to me and the next he wasn’t.”
> 
> Stiles couldn’t help but feel the pit in his stomach deepen when a look of hurt crossed Derek’s face, mostly human eyes scanning the crowd of people. There could’ve been a number of things that happened. A predator took Mitchell, maybe it was hunters, or...maybe Mitchell was wandered off, hopefully. 
> 
> Derek grabbed his hand, “I think I caught his smell, but...it’s hard with all these people. Come on.”

“Okay you need to grab your drink from the counter,” Stiles said as he grabbed the tray of food for the three of them. When there was a lack of response he glanced to his side about to ask again, but nobody was beside him. Worried Stiles set the tray back on the counter of the random mall fast food chain they decided to eat at, looking around the crowd of people. 

 

“Mitchell!” Stiles called, lacking to see the orange hoodie his son wanted to wear today. 

 

“Sir is everything--?” 

 

Before the person behind the counter could finish Stiles left their food and pushed past the crowded line to look at the food court fully. When he couldn’t spot the five year old anywhere Stiles felt panic start to bubble up under his skin. He didn’t even make it two steps before there was a hand on his arm, turning him one eighty. 

 

Derek was there, eyes flashing in obvious distress, “Stiles what’s--?”

 

“I lost our child,” he rushed out, “one second he was next to me and the next he wasn’t.”

 

Stiles couldn’t help but feel the pit in his stomach deepen when a look of hurt crossed Derek’s face, mostly human eyes scanning the crowd of people. There could’ve been a number of things that happened. A predator took Mitchell, maybe it was hunters, or...maybe Mitchell was wandered off, hopefully. 

 

Derek grabbed his hand, “I think I caught his smell, but...it’s hard with all these people. Come on.” 

 

Stiles nodded as he allowed Derek to pull him through the food court and down the escalator. It took a moment for Derek to decide but they eventually took a right towards the south end of the mall.

 

“You seen a five year old in an orange hoodie?” Stiles asked a group of people walking beside them.

 

“Uh no, sorry,” one said. 

 

He waved them off and Derek started walking even faster. Stores and people rushed by in blurs the only thought on his mind was ‘ _ find Mitchell _ ’. They were nearing the end of this wing of them mall when Derek stopped mid step, Stiles slamming into his back.

 

“What? Do you--?”

 

Derek looked back from where they came and Stiles followed his gaze, only to see the store he was looking at was the Disney store of all places. Stiles let go of Derek’s hand in favor of following his legs as he sprinted around people to get to the store. Derek was right behind him, the two of them bursting through the entrance. 

 

“Mitchell Stilinski-Hale get your little butt here right now!” Stiles called as he followed Derek who was leading the way again. 

 

They ended up at the back of the store near the massive wall of stuffed animals. Thankfully Mitchell was right there, staring at the wolf plushie section, his face shifting back and forth from human to wolf. There was a million things to be mad about; the child blatantly leaving his side and their general vicinity, the new grey hairs he and Derek definitely had, and shifting in public. 

 

“Papa why do these wolves have brown eyes? Me and you have gold ones,” Mitchell asked, looking up like he’d done nothing wrong. 

 

Before Stiles could brush of the question in favor of reprimanding the boy, Derek just let out a whine and fell to his knees, pulling Mitchell in tight. The five year old frowned and hugged back, nuzzling in close and Stiles couldn’t help it either. He crouched down and wrapped his arms around both of them, smushing their kid between them.

 

“Ughh Daddy I can’t breathe!” 

 

Stiles rolled his eyes fondly, “yes you can dude.” 

 

After a moment of Mitchell squirming the three of them parted, Derek taking the lead, “I don’t know why you left Daddy’s side but it’s not okay. You scared both of us. We didn’t know where you were.” 

 

“I’m sorry, I just,” Mitchell started, lower lip sticking out like it did when he was upset, “this girl next to Daddy and I had a Nemo stuffed animal and I wanted one.” 

 

“So you thought leaving my side was a good idea?” Stiles asked, eyebrow raised. 

 

“I guess s’not,” Mitchell sighed, head lowering. 

 

Derek grabbed one of the wolves the boy had been looking at, Stiles nodding at him to give it to Mitchell who held it with a confused look on his face. 

 

“Wolves are better than Nemo,” Derek smiled.

  
“Of course they are Papa!”


	25. "Your favorite superhero can't be a villain!"

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> didn’t live under a rock in New York.”
> 
> “Of course not, I just didn’t think you’d suggest a superhero movie.” 
> 
> Derek shrugged and looked over the various X-Men titles on screen, “it has my favorite superhero in it. I like the plot too.”
> 
> “Oh my God is a wolverine? I swear to God, Derek I cannot hold back a dog joke if it is."

“We should watch X-Men.”

 

Stiles froze, the popcorn in his mouth threatening to fall out due to his gaping. He looked at Derek with wide eyes because there was honestly no fucking away he just suggested watching X-Men. No, no way, nope, nada, that was not even funny at this point. Neither was the oh so very obvious nerd boner her was currently sporting. 

 

“What?” He asked finally, chewing his popcorn thoughtfully. 

 

Derek’s face went a little red, “we should watch X-Men. You know what that is right?” 

 

“Of course I know what that is, who do you take me for? I’m surprised you know what it is!”

 

“I didn’t live under a rock in New York.”

 

“Of course not, I just didn’t think you’d suggest a superhero movie.” 

 

Derek shrugged and looked over the various X-Men titles on screen, “it has my favorite superhero in it. I like the plot too.”

 

“Oh my God is a wolverine? I swear to God, Derek I cannot hold back a dog joke if it is,” Stiles snickered, getting a light punch on the arm. He made a fake sound of pain and rubbed his upper arm just to make the wolf feel bad. The smug asshole just smirked at him. 

 

“No, Magneto.” 

 

Stiles flailed, because for the second time today his mental answer was no. Just fucking nope.

 

“What do you mean Magneto?! Your favorite superhero can’t be a  _ villain _ !” Stiles gasped. 

 

“That’s not a rule Stiles. Plus he can be a good guy at times,” Derek said and pressed play on one of the movies. 

 

Stiles shook his head, “fine ‘Mr. Magneto-is-my-favorite-hero-although-he’s-a-villain’ tell me why you like him so much.” 

 

“His origin story. He was a prisoner of Nazi Germany, his family died, then his wife left him after their daughter died. He met Charles Xavier and they actually worked for good with their mutant powers. Sure, eventually he became Magneto and he did some messed up things, but he’s an interesting character and he has good development,” Derek explained. 

 

Stiles thought three things in that moment. One, he’s never been more turned on in his life. Two, Derek Hale is a fucking nerd when he wanted to be. Three, okay so maybe Magneto was a cool character but by no means was he a hero. Not in Stiles’ book.

 

“You done judging my taste in superheros? I mean your Batman underwear is pretty tacky,” Derek teased. 

 

“Hey! You like them and you know it! They were a quality purchase.”

 

“There a whole on the buttcheek where the Bat Signal is.”

  
Stiles frowned and curled into Derek’s side, “don’t remind me. I’m still upset about it.”


	26. "We need groceries, not just junk food. You're worse than the kids."

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Derek,” Stiles called, “we need groceries, not just junk food. You’re worse than the kids. Seriously they don’t even eat Cheetos, when did we get those?”

“I’ll buckle her in and get Mitch settled,” Derek said, leading the two children to the dining area. 

 

Stiles nodded and crossed the way to the kitchen headed for the fridge. He could hear Lily’s high pitched protest of sitting in her high chair and Mitchell’s persistent babbling about something from school. It put a familiar fuzzy feeling in his chest, hearing Derek being gentle with them with kind words. 

 

Hearing his family happy made him happy….the state of the fridge and cabinets did not. 

 

There was a box of PopTarts and a bag or two of chips. Not like the good kind either, like flavored Lay's and Ruffles. There was chocolate syrup in the fridge, bags of frozen french fries, a pack of boxed juices ( _ when did those even get there? _ ), prepackaged pizza. Over the years Stiles has learned some very important things. One of which was that he couldn’t eat like he did as a teenager, not if he wanted to end up with the same doctor bills as his dad. Plus he can’t keep up with the three werewolves in the house plus the rest of the pack.

 

He had an image to maintain. 

 

With the right spices quinoa salad tastes pretty fucking good if he says so himself. 

 

“Derek,” Stiles called, “we need groceries, not just junk food. You’re worse than the kids. Seriously they don’t even eat Cheetos, when did we get those?” 

 

There were footsteps from behind, arms wrapping around his waist, and stubble rubbing against his neck. 

 

“Oh no big guy, cuddling me isn’t getting you out of this one. I’m mad,” Stiles huffed. 

 

Derek chuckled, “you do know werewolves can eat junk food and be fine right?” 

 

“That doesn’t mean we should set that example! What if Mitchell and Lily have kids of their own one day? One of them could be human and they are taught from Lil and Mitch that junk food is okay, that’s on us! Do you want to be held responsible for that?” Stiles asked, craning his neck to look at his husband with narrowed eyes. 

 

“You had more than two cups of coffee this morning didn’t you?”

 

“Maybe, that’s not the point--”

 

“We have strawberries and peanut butter...and I think we have enough of your seed bread to make them a sandwich,” Derek cut in which effectively shut Stiles up...because good idea.

 

Stiles smiled, leaning in to give the older man a kiss before grabbing the strawberries out of the fridge. Now honestly making sandwiches isn’t hard, it’s the easiest thing ever, at least to Stiles. So when there’s teeth nibbling at his earlobe and hands running down his sides, the knife he’s been using to spread peanut butter flies across the counter and gets everywhere while a few strawberries tumble to the floor. 

 

“Daddy? Papa? Can you stop flirting? Me and Lily are hunnngry!” Mitchell yelled from the dining room. 

 

Stiles felt his cheeks go up in flames as he grabbed the knife and finished making the food. He turned to Derek with a slightly amused slightly annoyed face. 

 

“I will give the kids their food and hang out with them, you….you get to clean the mess. Firstly for letting our kitchen be filled with junk food. Secondly for riling me up enough to have our son call us out on it,” Stiles said with finality, feeling like a badass.

 

Derek winked at him, and Stiles turned around to hide his smile. He only made it a few steps before there was a loud crack and suddenly his ass stung. With a gasp, both aroused and surprised, he looked back with wide eyes--

 

“Dad! Stop it, ‘s gross!!!!”


	27. “I thought it was a one-night stand...but now we’re married…"

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Ow, fuck,” Stiles whined, sitting up to see the GQ model awake and naked in all his very sexy glory. Man for a one night stand he really got lucky, but terribly so he can’t remember a fucking thing.

Stiles woke up with a headache and a small groan, eyes adjusting to the sunlight coming from the wall of windows he was facing. It was weird...his and Scotty’s motel room didn’t have a wall of windows let alone a killer view of the Vegas strip. 

 

Oh God this wasn’t the motel. 

 

Stiles suddenly was hyper aware of the body pressed against his back and the arm hooked around his bare chest. He swallowed so hard it hurt as he glanced down to see the sheet barely covering their undoubtedly  _ bare  _ lower halves. Then his eyes caught sight of the body behind him and holy shit he was ninety nine point two percent sure he was sleeping with a GQ model. 

 

He turned his head back to the windows trying to think of a way out of this, except then there was movement and stubble ran across the nape of his neck and there was a hard cock pressed against his ass--

 

With that he slithered ungracefully out of the man’s grip until he rolled off the bed and took half the sheets with him. There was a groan from the bed when he fell to the floor with a thud, and somehow he managed to hit his funny bone. 

 

“Ow, fuck,” Stiles whined, sitting up to see the GQ model awake and naked in all his very sexy glory. Man for a one night stand he really got lucky, but terribly so he can’t remember a fucking thing. 

 

No more alcohol. Ever. 

 

“Um, hi,” the guy said, face pinched up. 

 

Stiles felt like drooling because man those eyebrows could murder someone, but those green-blue eyes were to die for. Jesus those cheekbones couldn’t be real either, they looked so sharp and angular. This guy is photoshopped for sure. 

 

“Well I’m pretty sad I can’t remember what I would assume to be awesome sex, but this was nice, gotta go,” Stiles blurted out and stood up, wrapping the sheet around his lower half just now noticing the marks all across his torso. 

 

Oh the sex must’ve been amazing. 

 

“Hey--”

 

“No seriously man I gotta go, my best friend is probably worried sick,” Stiles pressed, grabbing his boxers. 

 

“Wait--”

 

“Look dude I don’t know--”

 

“We have rings on our fingers!” The model blurted out and Stiles paused looking at his hands only to see his ring finger with a gold band on it. His vision spiraled a bit as he stood up on shaky legs. He twisted the band on his finger, slipping it off to look at the rather expensive piece of jewelry. On the inside of the band he read a tiny engraving “ _ drunk married is the best married _ ”.

 

Holy hell. 

 

“I thought it was a one-night stand...but now we’re married…,” he trailed off looking to the other man, stark naked and honestly still looking hotter than the sun. From his toned body to his bunny like teeth that poked from his slightly parted lips. 

 

“I’m Derek,” the guy -Derek- said suddenly.

 

“Stiles--and yes, it’s a nickname,” he answered, moving to sit on the edge of the bed, still wrapped in the sheet. The silence lingered, sitting between them and festering until Derek pulled off his own ring and looked inside it.

 

“It’s says “ _ his name his Mieczyslaw _ ”...I think I remember you told me last night when we bought the rings,” Derek said and Stiles paled with a low groan, shoving his face in his hands. He doesn’t know where Scott is, he’s slept with the world’s hottest man alive, and he’s married to said man who knows his atrocity of a first name. 

 

Great. Fucking great. 

 

“I don’t think this is how a honeymoon is supposed to go.”

 

“Seriously, Stiles?” 

 

“What? I heard they were much better than this-- I mean most people know their husbands.”

 

Derek was quiet for a long time after that before finally saying, “...my favorite color is green.”

 

Stiles couldn’t help the smile that crossed his face. 

 

So two years later at their real wedding the color theme was white and green, both of them wearing the same rings that started this beautiful perfect mess.


	28. "Why do you only kiss me when I'm sleeping?"

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Why do you only kiss me when I’m sleeping?” Stiles asked softly, rising so he was resting back on his elbows. 
> 
> Derek stood there, and for a second the dorky shy kid he once knew was back, “I--um, do you want me to kiss you when you’re not sleeping?” 
> 
> “Is that even a question? I mean I’ve kind of had a thing for you since freshman year big guy, but...if these were just best friend kisses then ignore me. That was a sleepy babble, don’t even acknowledge my words,” Stiles said.

The best thing about having a best friend is the fact you’re constantly with said best friend. That being said if Stiles could move in with Derek he totally would because their best friendom has reached epic proportions. 

 

Sometimes Stiles will come over after school and Derek will be out of the room and Talia straight up asks him if he can help with the dishes. Derek leaves only to return with two plates for dinner with what Stiles likes to call the “ _ optimum portion _ ” on his plate. His father has inside jokes with Derek that Stiles will never understand. Hell, they’ve taken showers at each other’s houses and when they fail to have a certain clothing item they just take it from the other. 

 

So yeah, be jealous, Derek is his best friend in the whole world. 

 

Of course they stepped on each other’s toes, fought about the world’s most stupid shit, and occasionally were too sassy for the world to handle. Laura and Cora call them an old married couple much to their dismay. Except there really isn’t another way to describe them, it’s a pretty good comparison. 

 

However they’re seventeen, Stiles is a man with needs.

 

... _Derek_ _needs_. 

 

The transition between sophomore and junior year did wonders for Derek. He hit the whole puberty thing like a pro. Skipped the acne train, managed to miss the squeaky voice memo, and ran straight into hot adult mode. He’s tall, dark, stubbly (or beardy depending on the day), and built like the hulk. So yeah...Derek got hot and Stiles was secretly  _ all  _ about that. Stiles was only human and his dick can’t control itself when it comes to his best friend. 

 

Long story short, the whole sharing a bed thing had stopped too. Which sucked because Derek before and after puberty is actually a furnace and Stiles runs cold naturally. It worked really well Now? Now Stiles can’t deal with Derek’s soft sleeping puppy face combined with his shirtless chest in the mornings. At least not in the same bed. 

 

While it pains him and Derek has questioned him on this, the solution was simple. Derek had a bed in his room, hence the name bedroom, but he also had this shitty futon for their late night gaming/movie extravaganzas. That was it, that was the solution, Stiles sleeps on the shitty futon that is too short for him now and his legs always fall off while Derek gets the bed. 

 

Tonight they’re at Derek’s house, and it’s quiet with Cora at some weekend camp thing and Laura off in college. So it was just them and they’d been semi working on their separate econ papers and just hanging out while stuffing their faces with junk food. The last time Stiles checked the clock it was just after two in the morning, but that felt like forever ago and his eyes have been shut for a while as sleep welcomed him. 

 

This...this is when weird shit happened and he thought it was a dream the first time it occurred. 

 

It started with his legs, which were already half off the futon. Hands grasped his calves and put them straight. Then he was draped in the red fuzzy blanket the Hales kept around just for him even though it was threadbare and on its last leg. For the grand finale there was always this pause before he got a kiss on the forehead. 

 

That’s right. A kiss on the forehead. 

 

From Derek. 

 

He was so done with it. Well...not like actually  _ done  _ done but he was tired of just getting them when Derek assumed he was already asleep. He wanted them to be real. He wanted them on other places than his forehead like his mouth, his chest, his---

 

Just lots of places, alright? Is that too much for him to ask? 

 

So tonight, when his forehead was greeted with the soft brush of Derek’s lips he finally worked up the courage to crack his eyes open despite the lids feeling like a million pounds. Their eyes met and he watched as Derek’s face and ears were suddenly alive with red splotchy patches of embarrassment. 

 

“Uhh--” 

 

“Why do you only kiss me when I’m sleeping?” Stiles asked softly, rising so he was resting back on his elbows. 

 

Derek stood there, and for a second the dorky shy kid he once knew was back, “I--um, do you want me to kiss you when you’re not sleeping?” 

 

“Is that even a question? I mean I’ve kind of had a thing for you since freshman year big guy, but...if these were just best friend kisses then ignore me. That was a sleepy babble, don’t even acknowledge my words,” Stiles said.

 

There was this shift in shy dorky Derek, because suddenly that was replaced with this confident looking super hot version of Derek that Stiles had never seen but could totally get used to. For a beat they searched each other’s faces to see if there was any sign of hesitation or unsureness. 

 

There was none. 

 

Derek did this weird bending down thing and Stiles did this awkward scooting thing until they met in the middle. Hands cupped his face and his own ended up wound in Derek’s shirt, their heads tilted just so as their lips finally met. There wasn’t the fireworks like in movies but it felt damn good to kiss Derek. Of course Derek pulled him to his feet because the weird angle got to be too much. 

 

Standing up only deepened the kiss and holy crap this could possibly top his love for curly fries. His love for kissing Derek. There needs to be a fanclub for this, obviously he’d be president and the only member, but still. The hint of facial hair Derek had tickled his mouth and chin, their tongues were suddenly involved and mingling, and it was just good. 

 

So very awesomely good. 

 

Eventually they pulled apart because oxygen, but they didn’t let go. 

 

“Does this mean those weren’t best friend kisses or…?” Stiles asked, voice a little hoarse. 

 

Derek smirked, “they were. You know it’s okay to be in love with your best friend right?”

 

“Well...in that case I love you and our best friend kisses.”

  
  



	29. "I may be an idiot, but I'm not stupid."

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Oh good Christ, Scotty it’s just you,” Stiles breathed, tone relieved and calm. 
> 
> Scott rolled his eyes, feet stomping down the stairs like a toddler, “yeah just me. Scott McCall, your best friend.”
> 
> “What? Scott are you okay dude--?” 
> 
> “Okay look,” Scott said, effectively cutting off Stiles much to Derek’s surprise, “I may be an idiot, but I’m not stupid.”

“I just don’t get it.”

 

“Oh you will, I’ll drag your little wolfy butt down there and make you try it. Grilled cheese mac n’ cheese will never be the same.” 

 

Derek raised an eyebrow while he looked at the man currently draped across his lap. Amber eyes looked back almost in a challenge, a teasing smirk directed to Derek. He leaned down, hand wrapped in thick chestnut hair as their lips met. Arms wrapped around his shoulders, eyes fluttered shut, and before Derek could let himself enjoy this moment thundering footsteps echoed through his ears. 

 

He reared back, eyes cast to the door as he tried to piece together who was on their way in. Stiles was already off the couch, flailing as he got on two feet. Derek let his eyes bleed to blue as he stood up himself only to pause when the undeniable scent of floral laundry soap, medical supplies, and pet dander hit his nose. 

 

So when the loft door opened to expose Scott he wasn’t entirely surprised. 

 

“Oh good Christ, Scotty it’s just you,” Stiles breathed, tone relieved and calm. 

 

Scott rolled his eyes, feet stomping down the stairs like a toddler, “yeah just me. Scott McCall, your  _ best friend _ .”

 

“What? Scott are you okay dude--?” 

 

“Okay look,” Scott said, effectively cutting off Stiles much to Derek’s surprise, “I may be an idiot, but I’m not stupid.”

 

The air was thick as the tension steadily rose, his eyes flickered between the two others in the room. It was obvious that years of friendship allowed them to do this silent communication thing until Scott looked stricken and Stiles more or less looked terribly confused. 

 

“Can you,” Derek started, Scott giving him a glare as he did, “explain?” 

 

Scott growled, “are you kidding? You’re a best friend stealer! I never get to see Stiles anymore, he just says he’s got things to do. So I followed him this time around and I find him here? Look I don’t know why he’s choosing you over me but listen I’ve known him since babyhood! We’re baby brothers!”

 

Derek looked to Stiles, only to find the younger man biting his lip as laughter bubbled up from his throat and echoed through the loft. He fell in sync, his own laughter fell from his lips and made his chest tight at the sheer stupidity that was Scott at the moment. The loft was heavy with the smell of anything but platonic emotions and sex. Scott should’ve been able to smell it before he even opened the door. 

 

There was another threatening growl and it sent him and Stiles further into laughter. 

 

“You’re a terrible werewolf Scott,” Derek said once he managed to sober up. 

 

Stiles huffed and Derek suddenly felt a hand on his shoulder then his cheek, then lips were on his. The familiarity of it make his eyes shut and his arms wrapped around Stiles’ slender waist. Scott was in the room, they both knew that, but it made Derek cringe and pull back. There was a huff and a wheeze from beside them.

 

Scott’s jaw hung dangerously low, his face bright red, and Derek found that he enjoyed seeing Scott scrambled.

 

“You--and?...Him with…? Oh my god,” he stuttered. 

 

“I’m not stealing your best friend, I’m just spending time with my boyfriend,” Derek said with finality and Stiles arched an eyebrow at his choice of words. He gave Stiles a reassuring nod and it sparked something behind bright amber eyes that sent a shiver through him. 

 

Stiles turned to look at Scott, “I promise, we’ll play some COD or something later...but Scott, get the hell out because I don’t think you wanna see what I’m about to do to my  _ boyfriend. _ ”

  
Derek let out a growl of his own as he moved them towards the bed, and with that Scott let out a flow of curses and gagging noises. The last thing Derek caught before Stiles got his full attention was the loft door as it slammed shut.


	30. "Well, you're coming home with me whether you like it or not."

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “My drink,” Stiles whined.
> 
> “No more for you,” Derek started.
> 
> “I wa’nna stayyy.”
> 
> “Well, you’re coming home with me whether you like it or not. You’ve had too much to drink.”

Derek doesn’t remember why he said yes to this, but he did, now here he is at a too loud too smelly night club. The bass is rattling his ears and chest, cologne and perfume engulfed his nose making his eyes water, and the too tight too warm outfit Lydia shoved him in wasn’t helping the experience. 

 

Over half of their group was sober, unable to be affected by regular alcohol. The humans within the pack they were stumbling and tripping over objects and words alike. Most of them were clinging to someone else or in small groups, yet Derek couldn’t help but noticed the severe lack of Stiles. 

 

Annoying flashing lights and hands rubbing up on him every so often made it difficult for Derek to get a lock on the younger man. Eventually when one too many hands found their way to his back pockets Derek moved away from the large crowd and over to the bar in hopes to avoid it from happening again. 

 

That’s how he ended up finding Stiles.

 

He was downing a shot with a lazy grin on his face, eyes hooded and dark yet unfocused. Stiles was in too tight black jeans and a red shirt that clung to everything. Derek caught himself staring and eventually he stared long enough to catch some jackass trying to lean too far into Stiles’ space.

 

Except Stiles was accepting the space breech, long fingers finding themselves in the other guy’s belt loops. 

 

Derek growled and walked over, doing his best to keep his eyes human as he approached. The slimy guy didn’t waste time looking over Derek and making the smart decision to back away and find someone else. Stiles mouth twisted into a pout as he looked to Derek with glassy eyes. 

 

“You scared him away! Wha’--why did you do thatttt?” Stiles slurred, his voice gravelly and deep.

 

Derek swallowed, “uh, you weren’t with the group.” 

 

“I was here...with him...Derek get him back.”

 

“No.” 

 

Stiles gawked, “what do you mean no? Come on p’ease--?” 

 

Before Derek could respond with a hard no, Stiles was bent over and vomiting up a rather colorful mess of food and alcohol all over the floor and their shoes. It smelled vile and Derek had to force himself not to gag as well. Club goers around them were stepping back either to get away or to get a video on their phones without getting in the splash zone. 

 

Derek, despite the gross wetness of his shoes, stepped over to Stiles and helped him stand straight. Once Stiles seemed a little less likely to vomit again Derek started to lead them towards the exit. 

 

“My drink,” Stiles whined.

 

“No more for you,” Derek started.

 

“I wa’nna stayyy.”

 

“Well, you’re coming home with me whether you like it or not. You’ve had too much to drink.”

 

Stiles raised his eyebrows, shivering when they got outside, “ooooh coming home with you doesn’t sound too bad.” 

 

“Knock it off,” Derek said, opening the passenger seat to the Camaro for Stiles to get into. Thankfully there was little protest about leaving the Jeep as Derek took about ten minutes to get Stiles sitting right and buckled up. He paused for a moment before slipping off their shoes and throwing them into the back of the car before getting in himself. 

 

A hand was on his thigh the second he was buckled up and Derek paused, looking to Stiles with what he hoped was a menacing glare. 

 

“Hellllllo Mr. Wolf,” Stiles teased.

 

“Knock--”

 

“No. I don’t wa’nna knock it off. Let’s knock it on.”

 

“Stiles that doesn’t make any sense,” Derek said flatly.

 

The younger man rolled his eyes, “‘M drunk, can’t always be suave.” 

 

Derek grabbed Stiles’ hand to move it, but instead fingers linked between his and held firmly. He felt his chest tighten and his heart beat a little faster from the contact. Stiles had the nerve to look smug as he curled into his seat with heavy eyes. 

 

“Are you takin’ me home or what?” Stiles asked.

 

Derek couldn’t stop the small smile that crossed his face, “loft. To the loft. I don’t want you throwing up on yourself.” 

 

“My hero.” 

 

“You wish.” 

 

“Shhh, ‘m sleeping now.” 

 

“You’re still--”

  
“Derek, shut up and drive.”


	31. "You got a cute butt."

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “You should be Superman for Halloween.”
> 
> “Why? To fulfill your superhero kink?”
> 
> “Well yes...but also your ass is out of this world.”

_ “You should be Superman for Halloween.” _

 

_ “Why? To fulfill your superhero kink?” _

 

_ “Well yes...but also your ass is out of this world.”  _

 

That had been a conversation between him and Derek a while ago, and it had been in good fun. Derek is notorious for not doing Halloween, the closest he gets is buying a bag of candy and watching something on Netflix because nobody comes to the loft. Meanwhile; Stiles knows he notorious for going all out for his Halloween costume, in the seventh grade he pulled off an epic costume….Chuckie...from Rugrats. 

 

Yeah, with the hair and everything. 

 

His neighbors gave him extra candy that year. 

 

Now? Now he’s an adult with an extra sexy boyfriend, Halloween is the prime time to show off the goods and show off his man. This year he’s doing what he’s wanted to do for so long but never done. He’s Batman. 

 

Contrary to belief he’s never done it. Joker? Yes. Penguin? Yes. Even Harley Quinn? Yes, fifth grade, it was awesome. Never Batman, he’s needed to earn that title and be sure he could pull it off. This year is  _ the  _ year, and he looks amazing. He didn’t cheap out either, he spent a shit ton of money on this costume to make sure he looked legit and not like a dollar store knock off. 

 

So here he is, stopping at the loft before he goes to Lydia’s annual party to show it off to Derek. He can hear footsteps on the other side of the door, approaching and Stiles readies his voice to do that gravely “I’m Batman”. Then the door opens and Derek is in front of him…

 

….in the most realistic Superman suit Stiles’ has ever seen. 

 

Instead of the badassery he’d been planning a small squeak left his mouth, eyes taking Derek in all his glory. 

 

“Holy God...you...and the suit...ohmy--” Stiles stuttered, flailing his hands to motion to the skin tight blue and red that molded to Derek’s adonis-like physique. 

 

Derek’s face heated up and a small shy smile crossed his face, “you look good too Stiles.” 

 

Stiles paused his fangirling, eyes narrowing as he put his hands on his hip, “what you mean I look good? I look fucking hot, awesome, spectacular even.” 

 

“Oh my God, Stiles, you look so fucking hot, awesome, and spectacular,” Derek mimicked and Stiles is taking what he could get, stepping forward to give his boyfriend a kiss. 

 

It was then, when he felt the lack of facial hair, that he realized Derek’s shaved. Shaved it all. He pulled back and grabbed at the older man’s cheeks in shock. “What did you do??” Stiles demanded, fingers playing with the oddly smooth skin. 

 

“Superman doesn’t have facial hair...I thought it would be more accurate if I shaved,” Derek answered. 

 

“I expect you to have a full on beard by tomorrow night or you’ll be getting none of this ass,” Stiles huffed, “because this ass loves the feeling of stubble which you currently have none of.”

 

Derek took that as a cue to turn around  back into the loft, his cape fluttering as he spun. Except it was the flash of under the cape that really had Stiles rethinking his whole “ _ none of this ass _ ” clause he’d added because holy fuck…. _ Derek’s ass _ .

 

He ran over to catch up, grabbing Derek’s cape and shoving it to the side. The belt on the costume was right on the small of his back, framing his already out of this world ass and making it even more amazing. 

 

Derek looked at him with an arched look and Stiles grinned. 

 

“You got a cute butt,” he said.

 

“You’re the worst,” Derek laughed. 

 

“I’m calling it as I see it. Now let's go to the party, I think we’re gonna win best costume,” Stiles said.

 

They end up winning best costume, however the real win is later that night when their costumes are off.


	32. "That's my shirt. So is that...wait?"

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “You missed me,” Stiles deadpanned. 
> 
> Derek frowned, “Stiles...what? Of course I did.”

Stiles was the best. 

 

Of course that was subject to opinion, but to him he was the freaking best. Ten out of ten the best friend, the best son, and especially the best boyfriend. Oh yeah that was also a thing too; he was the boyfriend of Derek Hale. The Adonis-like body, the chiseled cheeks graced with perfectly trimmed stubble, the incredibly smart and closeted jokester/nerd,  _ the  _ Derek Hale. 

 

So when Stiles says he’s the best it’s because he didn’t tell Derek he was coming home from George Washington a few days earlier than planned. Oh yeah, surprise visit, probably the best idea since the whole panties thing they discovered...but that’s a story for another time. 

 

This is how he found himself creeping up the stairs to their apartment after the longest three and a half hour drive from DC to New York ever. Even his constant music and finger drumming couldn’t distract him long enough to keep his mind off the time. It’s late; which is probably for the best since the more tired Derek was the less he used his senses, plus New York was naturally loud so the chance of blowing this too early was slim. 

 

The chance of other forms of blowing were pretty high. 

 

Stiles grabbed his keys, sliding them in the lock of their door as quietly as possible. The grinding of the key sliding through its riveted slot was loud and he almost wanted to scream in frustration but that would definitely give him away. Instead he huffed quietly and shoved the door open, toeing off his shoes on the mat before shuffling through the entrance to the open concept living area. 

 

While there was no sign of Derek, the place was a mess. That was weird because Derek was such a neat freak; however blankets of all kinds were splayed about, the sink was piled with dishes, the stove top was full of crumbs…

 

The only thought running through Stiles’ mind was ‘ _ what the everloving hell is going on? _ ’. 

 

He set his duffel bag on the couch as well as his computer bag, crossing the way to the small hallway that lead to the bedroom and bathroom. The door was cracked open slightly with soft yellow lighting pouring out. Stiles pushed the door open only to see the softest version of Derek he’s ever seen. 

 

The socks on his feet are mismatched, he’s wearing the sweats with the holes in the legs and the sweater with the thumbholes, his hair all tousled and soft against his forehead. Stiles didn’t take out his phone despite the overwhelming urge to. This was an intimate moment and saving it on a camera felt wrong in a way. 

 

Stiles walked over to the edge of the bed, his hand not even touching Derek before a strong grip wrapped around his wrist a tad too tight. Blue eyes flashed at him before fading quickly to reveal surprised green-ish ones. 

 

“Hey, surpri-- _ whoa _ !” 

 

Suddenly his world was flipped, his hip smashing painfully with another as he was pulled onto the bed. Strong arms wrapped around him and held him impossibly close, a face nuzzling into his neck and making him laugh. The stubble….well beard now, tickled the hell out of him.

 

A possessive growl -- _ that went straight to his dick if Stiles was being honest _ \-- echoed through the room and against his skin. 

 

“You’re back early,” Derek said after a moment. 

 

Stiles pulled back a little, looking his boyfriend in the eyes, “I wanted to surprise you?” 

 

Derek still looked taken back, his mouth parted with his teeth poking out a little. This warm, bubbly, fuzzy feeling rose in his chest and suddenly he couldn’t help but lean in and kiss that shock right off his boyfriend’s face. The slight chapped feeling of his lips juxtaposed the softness of Derek’s, their noses brushing against each other’s ever so lightly every now and then. 

 

When they pulled back Stiles finally noticed Derek’s pillow. 

 

“That’s my shirt,” he said blankly, sitting up a little to see it better, “so is that...wait? What?” 

 

Derek’s face went up in flames, the tan skin suddenly dark with red flush. Stiles didn’t need the gift of lycanthropy to see the embarrassment roll off the older man in waves. Under and around Derek’s pillow was his old Beacon Hills high school hoodies, a few of his graphic tee shirts, and basically anything and everything Stiles wears often. 

 

It clicked in his head then. 

 

“Ummm--”

 

“You missed me,” Stiles deadpanned. 

 

Derek frowned, “Stiles...what? Of course I did.” 

 

“Well duh...I just...you went as far to be with my scent,” Stiles said, motioning to the pillow. 

 

“I always want to be with you and your scent,” Derek said, holding Stiles closer. 

 

A grin spread across his face, “well that’s reassuring. I’d be worried if you didn’t.” 

 

Derek took that as a cue to nuzzle his face back into Stiles’ neck and chest, scenting him immediately. Stiles laughed softly, wrapping his arms around his boyfriend tightly, letting the wolf take what he needed. 

 

“I’m glad to be home,” Stiles said after a while. 

 

Derek paused, looking up, “...home?” 

 

“Once again duh, you’re my home.” 

 

If Stiles took an extra week off school...well it was worth it if he got to stay with Derek, his home. 


	33. "If I die I'm going to haunt your ass."

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Zombies trap Stiles and Derek.

“You’re the worst, like the actual worst!”

Derek huffed beside him, “if you don’t shut up I’ll leave without you.”

Stiles paused, eyes wide and mouth dropped in shock at the threat. He didn’t sense any joke behind it. Instead he went back to his silent freak out as he did his best to ignore the undead groans from the other side of the door.

Zombies. Freaking zombies. As if Beacon Hills couldn’t get any worse. This time if people were bitten they wouldn’t turn into were-somethings. They’d be zombies; rotten, gnarly, undead flesh craving things. Of course Stiles had played his fair share of online games with his friends to fight off creatures, like zombies, but the real thing was much more terrifying. They smelled terrible, their skin looked horrendous especially when it fell off in chunks, and for the love of God the noises were things of nightmares.

Sick pained groans that were hollow and void of any sort of intelligence.

Just hungry.

Very hungry actually since they tried to make him Stilinski a-la-mode about five minutes ago and Derek a Hale sunday.

“This is your plan? Hide in a storage closet?” Stiles asked and flailed just crazily enough to knock over a paint can.

It clattered to the floor with a harsh sound followed by a long silence. Derek’s eyes flashed blue, and gave Stiles level ten of the Hale-Glare-of-Gloom™. From outside the storage room of the old factory the silence gave way to loud hungry moans of the undead, bodies banging against the door. The rusted hinges weren’t going to last if the pileup on the other side grew until the pressure was too much.

“If I die I’m going to haunt your ass,” Stiles muttered as he shuffled backwards until he was flush with the wall, his heart about to beat out of his chest.

“You’re not going to die Stiles,” Derek said.

“I’m so going to die, you’ll probably heal,” he said, his hand ran through his hair but didn’t seem to have its usual calming effect, “oh, God. I’m gonna be a zombie—holy, Derek…you gotta keep my dad away from fast food, alright? His cholesterol is through the roof. Give Scott my comic collection; he’ll keep them safe–”

His panicked ramble was cut off when Derek was suddenly in his space, his hands tight around Stiles’ shoulders. There was this look of…uncertainty in his pale green eyes, and before Stiles knew what happened he was wearing the leather jacket.

“What–?”

“Keep your head down, hang on tight, and whatever happens… _run_ ,” Derek said seriously before he hoisted Stiles up onto his back.

Stiles gasped in surprise, his legs automatically locked around Derek’s waist as his arms wrapped around Derek’s shoulders. His mind raced with questions, for example; why the fuck Derek was about to risk his life for him of all people? Seriously there was no rhyme or reason for it, the guy made his dislike for Stiles crystal clear.

The door was kicked open, the hinges flying off and the metal crushed the few zombies right in front of it. There was a split second path and Derek was already running; Stiles let out a small shriek and curled himself tighter against Derek, his head hidden in the crook of Derek’s neck. Hands tried to swipe at him, but the leather and denim he wore made it hard for hands to actually grab and tear into his flesh.

Stiles had no idea how Derek was doing, he had no idea if he was hurt, he had no idea where they were going. At one point Derek jumped, and they free fell for a while before landing. Eventually though they made it to a place where fresh air was all around them and the noises of zombies were gone.

He found it in himself to look up when Derek slowed, they made it out of the old factory, into the back end of the woods.

Victory.

Well almost, because suddenly Derek collapsed to the ground with Stiles still on him. His knees smacked onto the hard ground violently but he had enough sense to roll off Derek, finally taking a second to see if he was okay.

“Oh my God, dude, _Derek_!” Stiles gasped and scrambled to his knees to shove Derek on his back and off his wounds.

There were angry tears of skin and muscle, blood oozed out in thick globs, and Stiles was so sure he was about to puke. Derek let out a pained sound and tried to curl in on himself only to fail and fall back.

“You so cannot die! We save each other! We don’t freaking die!” Stiles exclaimed, trying to see if the wounds were healing themselves or not.

Hands cupped his face and pulled him away from Derek’s torso. His eyes met pale ones which were riddled with pain. Stiles hated that; he couldn’t even do the cool werewolf pain drain thing, he could only sit there helplessly. He wasn’t just sitting there though, because now he was bent down with lips on his which were surprisingly soft.

So maybe he totally flailed and maybe he accidently bit Derek’s lip, but he was well within his freak out rights. Derek Hale was kissing him and he hasn’t kissed many people, let alone super attractive people that were so out of his league.

Stiles pulled back, lips still semi-puckered with his brows drawn in, “why did that feel like a goodbye kiss?”

Derek had the audacity to roll his eyes, “not…a goodbye kiss, it was a ‘ _calm down I’m healing slowly_ ’ kiss.”

“So you’re not dying?!”

“No, I can feel myself healing.”

“Oh sweet Jesus,” Stiles wheezed, leaning back down for another kiss which was probably only a little less clumsy than the first one.

“What kind of kiss was that?” Derek asked softly.

“I think it was a ‘ _thank god you’re not dead don’t do that to me again you dick_ ’ kiss,” Stiles answered.

“I saved your life. I’d do it again if I had to.”

“Are you getting sentimental on me?”

“Shut up.”

“Make me.”

Derek did in fact shut him up


	34. "After everything...I'd still choose you"

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Derek inhaled sharply, his head falling as his gaze landed on the floor, trying to blink the sting out of his eyes. The hand on his shoulder moved to his neck, then his face until he was forced to look up to meet Stiles’ eyes. There was no hate or malice in them. No disgust or disdain. Just acceptance and patience which was more than enough to finally break his walls.

It didn’t feel the same anymore. 

 

The streets, the air, the woods, everything about Beacon Hills felt wrong. All ties that were distinctively Hale were just gone the second Scott’s eyes flickered….and stayed red. The last tether slipped away, just out of reach as he tried desperately to hold onto it. Truth be told he never wanted to be the Alpha, even as a child he happily let his sister prepare for the role. 

 

With Peter….being Peter, Cora with minimal pack bonds in Beacon Hills, and everyone else dead he was it. Everything fell on his shoulders to keep the territory his family held for hundreds of years, and while he barely got by it wasn’t something he could keep up forever.

 

Of course saving Cora had been worth it; at the very least he got to save someone from his family. 

 

All this being said and done, Derek still felt like he let his mother down. 

 

First Paige, Kate, the fire, Laura, Peter, the pack, the innocent people he let die under his control, the Nemeton,  _ Peter again _ , losing their territory. Everything, for a lack of a better term, was fucked. 

 

Derek dug his palms into his eyes when they went heavy with unshed tears, unable to watch the rain pitter patter against the window. He was tired and heavy, he felt like he was suffocating and unable to crawl out of his own skin. 

 

The only thing he could to do was leave, leave Beacon Hills, and most importantly leave the McCall territory. 

 

His mind was made up a second later, thoughts of where to go and of who to tell -- _ if he told anyone at all _ \-- rolled through his head. Before those thoughts could manifest into real plans his ears picked up on the elevator squealing on it’s way up to the loft. His brows furrowed in confusion because as far as he knew the town has gone quiet for now, there’d be no reason for anyone to be here. 

 

Peter has his own apartment, Cora returned to South America, and Isaac has opted to join Scott. 

 

Derek was, is, an Omega. 

 

Nobody should be here. 

 

For a moment he thought of hiding himself away, but when he heard the familiar erratic heartbeat from the elevator he made no move to hide. Instead Derek focused back on the overcast skies and thundering rain, the cold from the window and radiated into his skin to the very marrow of his bones. 

 

The loft door opened and closed, the silence after that was near deafening. 

 

“Scott...he said you left in a rush after the Jennifer and Deucalion thing,” Stiles said, voice raspy and unsure, “are you okay?” 

 

Okay? That was a word for it. 

 

Derek was screaming, crying out, shouting into the void to no avail. Has been since he was sixteen yet he’s never found something to pull him out. Everything just pulls him back under. 

 

“I’m fine. Go home Stiles.” 

 

“I don’t have to be a werewolf to know that’s a lie,” Stiles said.

 

Footsteps drew closer and Derek tensed. 

 

“It doesn’t matter, just go,” Derek muttered as he crossed his arms almost defensively. Really...he just wanted to curl into himself and try to feel anything but pain. Maybe he’d be able to smell something other than smoke and ash for once. 

 

A hand, warm and reassuring, fell on his shoulder. It held something that Derek didn’t know what to do with. A promise. Comfort. Maybe something else he couldn’t quite describe since it’s been so long since he’d been given something like that. He dared himself to look over, his neck stiff as he caught the pale hand on his shoulder, chewed fingernails at the ends of thin fingers. 

 

“Let it out.” 

 

Derek frowned, “what?” 

 

“Let it out Derek,” Stiles repeated, “scream, cry, punch through brick if you need...but you can’t keep it in anymore.” 

 

Derek inhaled sharply, his head falling as his gaze landed on the floor, trying to blink the sting out of his eyes. The hand on his shoulder moved to his neck, then his face until he was forced to look up to meet Stiles’ eyes. There was no hate or malice in them. No disgust or disdain. Just acceptance and patience which was more than enough to finally break his walls. 

 

He fell into Stiles, hiding his ugly tears in the shoulder of Stiles’ hoodie, holding on to the teen for dear life as he finally let everything from the past eleven years out. Nasty sounding sobs rattled his chest and he’s never felt so small before. His shoulders shook, his head was pounding, and the sorrow that rolled through him was debilitating. 

 

“Derek,” Stiles said, holding Derek tight, “after everything...I’d still choose you.” 

 

His sobbing paused for a moment, their intensity fading a bit. 

 

“Scott...as much as I love him, he could never be the Alpha you were.”

 

“Thank you,” Derek rasped, sniffling as he hid his face again, finally breathing in something other than ash and smoke. 

 

He breathed in hope. 


	35. "He thinks he's a mind reader."

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “This is so cliche. This guy...he thinks he’s a mind reader, he has a snippy desk lady, are you sure about this Laura?” Derek asked. 
> 
> Before she could respond a person stepped in through another door, looking unimpressed. 
> 
> “Mind reader? I’m offended because a psychic is totally different. I read energies and auras and use them to make inferences on people then give them advice,” the guy spoke.

“You need to relax Der-Bear.” 

 

Derek glared at his older sister, debating if smacking the cotton candy out of her hand was worth the backlash. It wasn’t. 

 

“I am relaxed,” Derek said, barely weaving around another person in the crowd. 

 

“Are you kidding me? Your shoulders are up to your ears and I can hear you gritting your bunny teeth,” Laura sighed, plopping another glob of cotton candy in her mouth, “this is supposed to be relaxing. Fun.” 

 

“Yes, my idea of fun is walking around a circus slash amusement park all day,” he huffed. 

 

His sister rolled her eyes, looking forward to watch where she was going. Derek didn’t like this at all. The crowd, the sounds, the  _ smells _ ...oh God the smell was terrible. For a werewolf this was sensory overload and he had no idea how Laura was handling herself this well. About four kids have already rushed ahead of him and stepped on his toes in the process, this dumb group of teens shoved them and cut them in line for a ride Laura insisted on riding, and it’s been well over six hours. 

 

Laura is lucky he loves her or else he would’ve left the moment they pulled up here. 

 

“Hey! We should try it,” Laura said suddenly, pointing to a tented booth. 

 

Derek followed her gaze to the blue and orange striped tent -- _ what a horrible color combination _ \-- with a bright neon sign flashing “ _ The Good, The Bad, and The Psychic _ ”. He couldn’t help the unamused growl that left his throat, eyes hurting by how hard he rolled them.

 

“A mind reader? Really Laura?” He asked. 

 

She glared at him, “come on Derek. Live a little, plus it’s going to be bullshit anyways, just for fun.” 

 

He opened his mouth to protest but her face was pleading at this point...and dammit he was so weak with her, “fine. Fine...let’s go waste some money.” 

 

His sister made a happy sound only to grab him by the arm and pull him over to the tent. Inside smelled faintly of incense and greasy fries. It was hollow; one person left as they entered. Other than that it was just a woman behind a desk. She was suspended in one of those aerial performer cloths, red hair falling down in soft waves, her eyes focused in a book. 

 

“Uh--is this--?”

 

The redhead looked up and shut her book, a manicured eyebrow arched a bit as she looked over them. Derek felt himself shrink into his jacket a little bit under her gaze. 

 

“Twenty bucks per person,” she finally said, swaying a bit in the cloth swing. 

 

Laura huffed but pulled out her wallet, “that’s a little steep.” 

 

“You’re paying for the real deal sweetheart.”

 

“Uh-huh, sure, I’m just here for entertainment not for my life to flash before my eyes,” Laura said. 

 

Derek cleared his throat and pointed to a small beaded curtain entrance, the redhead nodded and bitterly resumed her book. He motioned for Laura to follow him which she gratefully did instead of picking a fight with the desk lady. Within the room...well it was just a bunch of pillows, rugs, and tapestries. 

 

“This is so cliche. This guy...he thinks he’s a mind reader, he has a snippy desk lady, are you sure about this Laura?” Derek asked. 

 

Before she could respond a person stepped in through another door, looking unimpressed. 

 

“Mind reader? I’m offended because a psychic is totally different. I read energies and auras and use them to make inferences on people then give them advice,” the guy spoke. 

 

Derek looked him over; he was in those bizarre drop crotch pants and a loose shirt. However his skin was pale and dotted with moles, his hair was wild on his head, but what Derek couldn’t get enough of where those weirdly bright honey colored eyes. Laura’s hand on his shoulders got him to blink out of whatever dazed state he was in. 

 

She smirked at him and he flipped her off.

 

“Forty bucks, do your psychic thing,” Derek snapped and sat on the carpeting and pillows. 

 

The guy sat across from him looked at them both for two minutes, teeth gnawing on his plush pink---his lips. After a moment he sat up straight and held up his hand, “well call me Stiles. I have a feeling that this isn’t the last time we’re going to see each other.” 

 

Derek rolled his eyes and Laura shrugged at shook his hand. 

 

Stiles smiled, “now...let’s start with you Missy, I’m sensing you’re caught between...a few...no wait three guys and I think I can help--”

 

“Oh my God, Laura... _ three _ ?” Derek gasped. 

 

He’s never seen his sister look so red and regret forty bucks so much. 

 

“--please. Her guy problem isn’t as bad as yours.” 

 

It was Laura’s turn to gasp, “wait since when are you into guys?!” 

 

“Since he saw me,” Stiles supplied with grin on his face. 

  
This has been the best forty bucks Laura has ever spent he decides. 


	36. "I forgot I was a single parent."

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “I’m—that is parent teacher night. Parent,” Derek says, “I’m not her dad.” 
> 
> Oh. 
> 
> Embarrassment floods Stiles. The wakeup calls. The coffee. The window. The egg preferences. All the other countless little things that have added up throughout most of the year.
> 
> “I forgot I was a single parent….” Stiles mutters more to himself than Derek.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm back baby

One would think after being a father for five years Stiles Stilinski would finally be a morning person; however, that is obviously not going to happen. He is sprawled in his bed, head half buried by pillows, one sock clad foot sticking out of the blanket. There is sunlight coming from his windows but he is doing the best he can to ignore it. **  
**

He is almost asleep again when he hears his door creak open.

It’s taken him eight months of those five years to get used to this kind of wakeup call.

There is a muffled high pitched giggle and it’s immediately shushed by a much deeper voice.

“ _Daddy wake up!_ ”

Stiles gets no warning when forty pounds is being dropped on him, and he nearly gets the wind knocked out of him as little limbs crawl all over him before they settle at his side. He lifts and turns his head only to be greeted by a mass of dark curly hair.

“I don’t know kiddo, sleeping sounds pretty good right now,” Stiles yawns, resting his head on his arm while still looking in his daughter’s direction.

Piper sputters, legs flailing, “but Derek said we can only have pancakes if you get up.”

“Oh did he now?” Stiles asks, looking up to see Derek smirking with a slight flush across his cheeks.

“I may have suggested that,” Derek says, holding out a mug which Stiles knows is his coffee with lots of cream and lots of sugar.

“Please Daddy! I  _really_ want pancakes,” Piper begs as she moves to sit on her knees.

Stiles can’t help but smile at how adorable she looks in her sleep rumpled Moana pajamas. He makes adorable babies, the five year old in front of him is proof. He relents and sits up, taking his coffee with one hand while the other opens a space for Piper to curl up in. The child happily snuggles up to him, hiding her face in his shirt.

The coffee ends up being perfect, and Derek rolls his eyes when Stiles praises him about it insisting it is no big deal before going to the kitchen. It leaves a few minutes for Stiles to have alone with Piper, both of them more invested in a good morning snuggle than actual conversation. Eventually he manages to get out of bed, following his energetic daughter out of the room.

The thick scent of bacon wafts from the oven and the tart smell of cut up fruit also permeates the air. With the apartment not being super huge it doesn’t take much for it to start getting smoky inside. Stiles moves to the nearby window to open it like he usually does when cooking, but notices it’s already opened.

Derek is apparently one step ahead of him.

“You wanna help Derek mix the batter?” Stiles asks.

“Yes!” Piper says, balancing on her tiptoes to see, her body pressed up against Derek’s leg.

Stiles laughs and sets his coffee down before lifting Piper up so she’s sitting on the counter.

“Can you get the frozen blueberries?” Derek asks.

“Yeah.”

Stiles ducks down and grabs the frozen berries from the freezer, handing them over before setting to work on eggs. He likes them scrambled with heaps of cheese in it, Piper and Derek both prefer fried eggs; however, Derek hates runny yolks.

It amazes him how after years of only keeping in touch via occasional text he and Derek can just come back to this level of familiarity so easily. Of course boundaries aren’t really a thing when one has children, especially one who inherited the lack of a brain-to-mouth-filter and reiterates the smallest of details at the most inappropriate time.

“Can I have more berries in my pancakes?” Piper asks, fingers stained purplish blue from the berries.

Derek snorts, “I don’t know Pipes—”

“I promise I’ll brush my teeth extra good after!”

“Pinky promise?”

Piper nods and loops her stained pinky with Derek’s, vowing to keep that promise.

“Jeez, melt my heart much you two?” Stiles asks, his cheeks feeling hot all of a sudden.

The timer goes off after a moment, and Stiles pauses his work on the eggs to grab the bacon out of the oven so it can cool. He grabs paper towels, setting the strips of pork on top to get the excess grease off.

“Oh, hey Derek,” Stiles says, his brain finally back online, “on the 26th I have a double shift I can’t get out of because Kimberly is on maternity leave…anyways, do you think you could do the parent teacher night thing for Piper? I think she only has two teachers because you know, it’s just kindergarten, but still I don’t want her to miss it.”

The kitchen is silent, void of food sizzling.

Stiles cranes his head to the left to see Derek looking at him, thick eyebrows drawn up in confusion.

“I’m—that is parent teacher night.  _Parent_ ,” Derek says, “I’m not her dad.”

Oh.

Embarrassment floods Stiles. The wakeup calls. The coffee. The window. The egg preferences. All the other countless little things that have added up throughout most of the year.

“I forgot I was a single parent….” Stiles mutters more to himself than Derek.

The werewolf picks up on it of course.

“You know what we should do? We should invite some of your dolls and plushies to breakfast. Do you want to go pick a few from your room?” Derek asks in a soft tone to the child resting on the counter.

The girl lights up with the idea almost sliding off the counter in excitement, but thankfully Derek catches her and puts her on her feet. Piper bolts down the hall and into her room ranting about who deserves to have breakfast. Stiles knows she’ll have a hard time picking between Mr. Bear and Ducky.

With Piper out of the room it leaves the adults to deal with the tension. The remaining stove burners are turned off, and Stiles doesn’t have the nerve to turn and face Derek. What kind of parent is he? He’s grown so dependent on Derek that thinking about the man moving out scares him.

It scares him a lot.

“I can hear you thinking,” Derek starts.

Stiles stops biting on his lip, “you have supersonic hearing.”

“Supersonic is a bit of an over exaggeration.”

“Shut up. You know what I mean,” Stiles says, biting the bullet as he spins around.

Derek is standing in the middle of the kitchen looking stupidly…. _attractive_ in his basketball shorts and an old hoodie with some cheesy New York tourist bullshit on it. His hair is still tousled from sleep and his facial hair is more beard than scruff. Stiles is so taken that he’s allowed to see Derek Hale like this.

“I wasn’t trying to make you feel bad,” Derek starts again, “I just am not Piper’s dad. I don’t want to impede because you’re her actual dad and this is parent teacher night.”

Stiles wants to hit himself over the head with a frying pan. Repeatedly.

“Then what the hell do you call all of this?” Stiles demands, keeping his voice low but serious.

“All of what?”

“ _You_! Taking care of Piper when I have work or when I’m too tired to get up early enough although we both know my dad is perfectly capable of doing that. Making diners that you say you haven’t made since before the fire, saying it’s nice to share them with a family again. Bringing Piper and lunch into the station for me and sitting with me at my desk to share it like—”

Stiles’ voice breaks off and his eyes fall to the floor.

“Like what Stiles?” Derek asks, suddenly in his space, his fingers tilting Stiles’ chin back up.

“—like my mom and I used to do for my dad,” he finishes, brining his gaze back up to Derek’s.

Lips are on his and it is glorious. Scratchy facial hair makes the skin around his mouth tingle, large warm hands that hold his hips grounds him in this moment, and when it finally hits him that Derek Hale is kissing him, Stiles doesn’t hesitate to reciprocate. His fingers wind themselves into Derek’s ink colored hair and he presses his body closer into the contact that is so so good.

Teeth and tongue are just being introduced to the party when reality hits them, and reality is named Piper. A gasp sounds to their left followed by the sound of toys crashing to the ground. He and Derek rip themselves apart, and nothing is able to mask how disheveled they are.

“I knew it!” Piper finally says, jumping up and down excitedly.

“Um, what?” Stiles asks in a high voice.

“You and Derek,” Piper says with a ‘duh’ kind of tone, “it’s like Uncle Scott and Auntie Kira! You guys are all mushy and stuff.”

Derek breaks out into this hysterical laughter and Stiles feels so incredibly dumbfounded. His five year old kid knew about them before they even knew about them. There is a them now. Stiles smiles as that thought crosses his mind; obviously, there is still a lot of logistics to talk about but everything is changing for the better.

Stiles moves and picks up Piper, settling her on his hip, giving her cheek a wet smacking kiss  The girl squeals and shies away from the obnoxious contact.

“Does this mean Derek can do the teacher thingy?” She asks.

“This absolutely means I can do it,” Derek nods, bunny teeth sticking out of his brilliant smile.

“But first, pancakes,” Stiles amends.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tumblr: @nogitsunelichen


End file.
